COL.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  FLOWERS 
MEMORIAL  COLLECTION 


DUKE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
DURHAM,  N.  C. 


PRESENTED  BY 

W.  W.  FLOWERS 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/utemassacre01meek 


THE  LATE  INDIAN  MASSACRE. 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


OWN  ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


THE  UTE  MASSACRE! 


Brave  Miss  Meeker’s  Captivity! 

HER  OWN  ACCOUNT  OF  IT. 

ALSO, 

The  Narratives  of  Her  Mother  and  Mrs.  Price. 


TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED 

FURTHER  THRILLING  AND  INTENSELY  INTERESTING  DETAILS, 
NOT  HITHERTO  PUBLISHED,  OF  THE  BRAVERY  AND 
FRIGHTFUL  SUFFERINGS  ENDURED  BY  MRS. 
MEEKER,  MRS.  PRICE  AND  HER  TWO 
CHILDREN,  AND 

BY  mss  JOSEPHINE  MEEKER. 


PUBLISHED  BY 

THE  OLD  FRANKLIN  PUBLISHING  HOUSE, 
PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1879,  by  the  Old  Franzlix  Phe4JSHI»G 
Hovse,  in  the  officr  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  O. 


F 'OtLECnOd 


MISS  MEEKER’S  ACCOUNT. 


— - 0— — — 

For  several  weeks  previous  to  the  actual  outbreak  in  Colorado,  it  bad 
become  a topic  of  general  apprehension  that  the  Ute  Indians  would 
sooner  or  later  be  having  a massacre  of  the  whites  at  Agent  Meeker’s 
post. 

Mr.  Meeker  kept  writing  and  telegraphing  to  Washington,  telling  the 
constant  peril  he  was  in,  and  asking  the  Government  either  to  rescind  the 
policy  toward  the  savages  under  his  charge,  or  else  to  send  him  troops 
enough  to  overawe  them.  How  earnest  he  was  is  sorrowfully  proven  by 
the  terrible  result.  The  most  regretable  part  of  it  all  is  that  Meeker  was 
one  of  the  very  best  agents  who  was  really  honest  and  treated  the  In- 
dians well/ 

Chiefs  Douglass  and  Johnson  noticed  that  he  was  always  writing,  and 
they  thought  he  was  thereby  sending  messages  to  the  Great  Father  at 
Washington,  and  in  their  benighted  superstition,  they  thought  he  was 
thus  injuring  them  in  some  mysterious  way.  He  was  always  trying  to 
convert  them  and  endeavoring  to  induce  them  to  become  farmers.  He 
had  always  been  a,devoted  admirer  and  friend  of  the  late  Horace  Greeley 
so  much  so  that  the  town  he  founded  he  named  Greeley  in  honor  of  the 
sage  o Chapaqua. 

The  Indians  could  not  understand  matters.  They  saw  the  miners  com- 
ing into  their  reservation  given  them  by  the  Government.  These  miners 
were  digging  for  gold,  which  they  had  no  right  to  do,  and  when  the  In- 
dians spoke  to  Meeker  about  it,  he  was  obliged  to  tell  them  he  could  not 
help  it,  but  would  write  to  the  Great  Father  and  have  it  stopped  some- 


4 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


time  he  thought.  Still  it  increased,  and  the  Indians,  shrewd  yet  ig- 
norant, began  to  doubt  him.  So  when  they  saw  what  they  thought 
would  be  the  last  step  taken  to  deprive  them  of  their  lands— which  was 
the  ploughing  of  some  ground  by  Mr.  Price — they  resolved  on  the  mas- 
sacre. 

It  will  constantly  be  thus  until  the  whole  Indian  question  is  placed  in 
the  control  of  the  War  Department.  Then  the  army  officers  could  give 
them  the  annuity  goods,  and  punish  instantly  any  insubordination.  But 
the  way  it  is  now,  the  traders  swindle  the  miserable  creatures  and  get 
'out  of  the  road;  then  the  Indians,  in  their  blood-thirsty  rage,  attack  the 
white  settlers  indiscriminately  in  their  blind  revenge ; then  the  soldiers 
are  called  in  and  many  lives  are  lost.  The  whole  business  is  a monoton- 
ous piece  of  treachery  and  blood-stained  villainy,  in  which  innocent  par- 
ties suffer,  while  the  scoundrels  who  cause  it,  keep  out  of  danger  and  fill 
their  pockets  with  money.  If  the  Government  were  to  appoint  General 
Grant  or  Sherman  or  Sheridan,  an  Indian  Commissioner,  with  free  power 
to  control  the  whole  question,  we  do  not  believe  there  would  ever  be  an- 
other Indian  outbreak  of  any  description,  nor  a single  one  of  these  shock- 
ing slaughters  of  settlers  that  make  the  blood  curdle  to  read  of  them. 

With  these,  as  we  think,  just  comments,  we  proceed  to  give  Miss 
Meeker’s  narrative  ot  the  massacre  and  her  own  captivity,  as  well  as  of 
her  mother  and  Mrs.  Price  and  her  children. 

"Miss  Meeker,”  said  the  gentleman  who  obtained  her  narrative  of  her 
own  and  her  fellow  captives’  sufferings,  “there  have  been  all  sorts  of  wild 
aud  differing  stories  going  through  the  newspapers  about  the  whole  affair, 
and  I am  sure  you  wpuld  be  able  to  give  the  true  account.” 

The  handsome  young  woman,  who  by  her  indomitable  heroism  and  de- 
termination had  saved  the  lives  of  the  whole  party,  answered : 

“I  think  I can,,  sir,  but  I do  not  think  that  there  could  be  any  imagina- 
tion conjure  up  more  terrible  sufferings  and  torture  than  what  we  en- 
dured iu  reality.  Of  course*  they  may  differ,  but,  believe  me,  they  cannot 
exceed  the  facts.” 

“Please  give  me  the  real  history  of  the  captivity  and  the  rescue.” 

“I  will  with  pleasure — no!  I eannot  say  with  pleasure,  for  it  all  makes 
me  shudder,  especially  when  I think  of  the  part  my  poor,  dear  mother 
had  to  endure.  I dread  that  she  will  never  recover  from  the  horrible 

usage  she  received.” 

And  the  tears  welled  up  in  her  beautiful  blue  eyes  as  she  spoke,  and  for 
'several  moments  she  did  not  attempt  to  proceed. 

“I  have  no  doubt  you  were  all  glad  when  General  Adams  made  his 
appearance,”  was  remarked  by  a friend. 

“ Oh,  my  ! glad  ! Don’t  talk  ! Glad  is  but  a weak  word  for  our  emo- 
tions. Just  think  of  our  being  driven  and  dragged  for  a month  over 


A L Cur  XT  OF  iT  ALL. 


5 


mountains  in  dost,  and  heat,  and  biller  culd  alternately  sometimes 
drenched  with  rain,  fainting  under  the  noonday  sun,  or  pierced  to  the 
heart  with  the  icy  winds  at  night!  When  I peeped  over  the  blanket  that 
an  old  squaw  held  up  so  I could  not  see  our  rescuers,  and  beheld  General 
Adams,  and  knew  that  we  would  be  taken  back,  my  very  soul  leaped 
within  me  for  joy.  It  was  like  going  directly  from  perdition,  to 
Heaven.” 

“It  is  a wonder  you  were  not  completely  overcome.” 

“ Ah,  there  was  no  necessity  nor  time  for  any  sentimental  overcoming,” 
was  the  quick  reply  of  the  brave  girl;  “ it  was  the  moment  for  action,  so 
I just  sprang  forward,  took  the  squaw  by  the  shoulders  and  flung  her  and 
her  blauket  away.  She  went  reeling,  and  I stepped  straight  to  the  Gen- 
eral and  pointed  out  to  him  the  tent  in  which  I thought  mother  and  Mrs. 
Price  were  kept  prisoners. 

“ This  was  immediately  visited,  but  they  w*ere  not  there,  for  they  had 
been  sent  down  to  the  stream  of  water  to  do  some  washing.” 

“ Why,  it  is  a wonder  your  mother  survived  it  at  all,”  said  a friend 
present,  “ wounded  as  she  was.” 

“ Yes,  it  was  only  through  God’s  kind  mercy  that  she  did  get  through 
as  she  did.” 

“ Please  tell  us  all  the  story  from  the  beginning.” 

“ Well,  to  begin  at  the  commencement,  we,  at  the  agency,  never 
dreamed  for  a moment  of  the  awful  avalanche  that  was  about  to  fall  on 
us,  until  it  came  down.  To  prevent  any  misunderstanding  about  the 
cause  of  the  massacre,  it  was  just  this.  Mr.  Price,  according  to  Govern- 
ment instructions,  began  ploughing  up  some  ground  for  crops  for  the 
Indians.  Now  the  savages  have  a tradition  or  superstition,  that,  as  soon 
as  the  white  men  plough  land  it  soon  becomes  his,  and  the  red  man 
loses  it. 

“The  result  was  that  Mr.  Price  heard  bullets. whizzing  around  him, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  stop.  The  Indians  then  held  several  councils 
among  themselves,  and  Panvit,  who  was  urged  by  his  squaw,  Jane,  made 
a ••  heap  trouble  ” as  they  called  it. 

“ Father  was  always  kind  to  the  Indians,  and  did  his  best  to  let  them 
sen  he  was  their  true  friend,  so,  after  talking  with  these  two  about  the 
affair,  he  gave  them  a plot,  built  a house  and  dug  a well,  and  gave  Jane 
a cook  stove  and  several  articles.  Besides  all  this  he  treated  two  or  three 
more  of  the  troublesome  ones  with  kindness  and  gifts.  This  cours<‘ 
smoothed  matters  over,  and  the  Indians  thereupon  gave  their  consent  t - 
have  the  ploughing  resumed,  which  accordingly  was  done.  The  agre<- 
ment  was  that  half  of  the  original  extent  was  to  he  ploughed,  or  about 
half  way  to  the  river. 

Now  Johnson,  another  chief,  did  not  happen  to  have  been  at  the  council 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


when  this  was  agreed  to,  and  when  he  found,  on  coming  back  that  the 
ploughing  was  going  on,  he  became  highly  incensed,  not  only  with  father 
but  also  with  the  Indians.  There  was  no  use  in  talking  to  him  at  all,  for 
when  father  went  to  him  and  tried  to  pacify  him,  he  assaulted  him  and 
pushed  him  out  with  great  violence. 

“ No  more  was  said  or  done  at  the  time,  but  father  wrote  to  Waskingion 
to  say  that  its  policy  could  not  be  carried  out  except  sufficient  protection 
fbould  be  afforded  for  that  purpose. 

“ The  reply  to  this  was  that  his  desire  .should  be  complied  with.  Word 
came  too,  from  Governor  Pitkin,  that  troops  had  been  sent.  The  next 
thing  we  knew  from  the  Indians  themselves,  that  the  soldiers  were  at 
Bear  river,  about  fifty  miles  or  so  above  the  agency. 

The  Indians  instantly  held  one  of  their  councils,  and  resolved  to  ask 
father  to  write  to  Thornburgh  to  send  five  soldiers  to  .camp  and  not  allow 
the  rest  to  come  into  the  reservation  at  all.  This  message  father  sent 
Thornburgh  at  once,  but  left  the  decision  as  to  what  should  be  done  with 
that  officer  himself. 

With  the  courier  wlio  took  this  message  went  several  of  the  Indians, 
and  these  latter  came  back  on  the  next  Sunday  morning.  Two  councils 
were  held,  one  at  the  Agency  and  the  other  at  the  chief’s  camp.  This 
was  Douglass,  and  though  the  tents  were  kept  as  usual,  he  had  all  the 
Indian  women  moved  away,  and  the  bucks  seemed  greatly  excited. 

The  next  day  at  noon  the  courier,  who  had  gone  to  Thornburgh’s 
camp,  came  in  and  told  .father  that  the  soldiers  were  making  forced 
inarches  so  as  to  reach  us  quickly.  The  agent  was  to  tell  the  Indians 
that. Thornburgh  would  meet  five  of  their  braves  at  Mill  Creek,  which 
was  between  fifteen  and  twenty  miles  distant,  that  night.  This,  of  course, 
was  a ruse  on  his  part  to  have  them  suppose  that  he  was  quite  near  at 
hand,  whereas  he  could  not  possibly  get  his  men  up  for  twenty-four 
hours. 

“ The  Indians  despatched  their  five  warriors  to  meet  Thornburgh,  and 
we  began  to  feel  perfectly  safe.  But  hardly  had  they  gone,  when  a TIte 
runner  came  galloping  in  with  the  news  that  the  soldiers  were  fighting. 
This  runner  was  seen  to  go  to  Douglass’  tent,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour 
more  a score  of  the  Utes  came  charging  over  from  his  camp  to  the  agency, 
and  began  firing  at  the  men. 

“ All  that  morning  Douglass  had  been  at  the  agency,  and  had  even 
eaten  dinner  with  us,  seeming  in  a very  good  humor,  and  laughing  and 
joking  with  myself  and  mother,  and  singing  negro  camp-meeting  tunes,  of 
which  he  was  very  fond.  I think  Mrs.  Price  and  I joined  in  one  or  two 
of  them,  as  well  as  his  boy,  whom  both  mother  and  I used  to  teach,  for 
we  took  much  interest  in  him. 

"I  was  in  the  kitchen  with  mother,  washing  up  the  dishes,  and  Mrs. 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


t 


Price  wa9  just  outside  at  work  at  the  washtub.  As  the  reports  of  the 
guns  broke  upon  my  ear  I looked  up  out  through  the  window  and  saw 
the  red  fiends  shooting  the  men  down.  I don’t  remember  what  I thought 
©ri  seeing  this  horrible  sight,  for  the  next  moment  my  attention  was  at- 
tracted by  Mrs.  Price,  who  rushed  into  the  house,  snatched  up  her  little 
boy  Johnny,  the  baby,  and  turned  to  fly.  The  “same  moment  Frank 
Dresser  half  staggered  into  the  room,  holding  his  leg  where  he  had  a 
balL 

“Till  this  moment  I had  been  rather  dazed,  but  now  I gathered  my 
senses  and  began  to  act.  So  turning  to  the  corner  I snatched  up  a 
loaded  rifle  and  jumping  to  Dresser  give  it  to  him,  exclaiming: 

“Here,  Frank,  here’s  Price’s  gun!” 

He  grabbed  it  and  I bounded  to  mother,  and  taking  her  hand  and  arm 
I hurried  out  back  with  her  to  the  milk  house.  Her  thigh  had  been 
broken  about  two  years  ago,  and  between  this  and  her  excitement  she 
was  almost  helpless,  and  our  movements  were  necessarily  slow — or,  at 
least,  comparatively  so.  I remember  distinctly  the  first  volley  of  balls 
that  came  smashing  through  the  window,  and  Dresser  raised  his  piece 
and  shot  the  chief’s  brother,  who  fell  dead  on  the  instant. 

My  most  vivid  recollection  of  the  attack,  however,  was  my  picking  up 
the  little  boy  Johnny  Price  by  the  arm.  The  poor  child  did  not  compre- 
hend what  was  occurring,  and  he  seemed  for  an  instant  or  so  very  much 
astonished  at  my  roughness.  I knew  from  their  habits  that  quite  likely 
as  he  was  a boy  instead  of  a girl,  some  one  of  the  savages  would  take 
him  by  the  heels  and  dash  his  brains  out.  And  he  was  such  a favorite 
with  us  all  that  I resolved  to  save  him,  if  at  all  possible. 

“From  the  house  we  all  ran  to  the  milk  shed  and  barricaded  the  door  as 
well  as  we  could.  This  place  had  only  one  window  of  small  dimensions. 
For  several  hours  we  were  concealed  there,  and  during  all  that  time  we 
could  hear  the  firing  of  the  guns-  and  we  could  imagine  the  horrible  scenes 
that  were  being  enacted,  and  also  that  the  blood-thirsty  Utes  would  soon 
be  after  plunder  in  the  milk  house  in  which  we  had  taken  refuge.  It  may 
seem  odd  to  say  it,  but  it  is  a fact  nevertheless,  that  at  every  discharge 
we  would  notiee  and  say  whether  or  not  it  was  a Government  or  an  In- 
dian rifle,  for  there  is  a great  difference  in  the  sound  of  each. 

“ How  long  we  were  in  the  milk  room,  I do  not  know,  but  it  was  not 
until  smoke  began  to  pour  into  it,  and  we  knew  the  agency  was  in  flames, 
that  we  left. 

“ What  shall  we  do  now?  ” gasped  mother,  speaking  to  Dresser,  who 
had  come  with  us  to  afford  us  such  protectiou  as  he  could. 

“ Save  yourself,  Frank,”  said  I several  times  to  the  brave  fellow  who, 
though  wounded  in  the  leg,  never  dreamed  of  leaving  us. 


8 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


“ Oh,  no,  Josie,  if  I cannot  save  you  ladies  and  children,  I’ll  go  under 
myself.” 

It  was  now  close  on  to  evening,  for  the  coming  of  which  we  were 
longing  so  anxiously  in  order  to  make  our  escape  into  the  brush.  But  the 
smoke  became  so  dense  and  the  two  children,  in  spite  of  all  our  efforts, 
began  to  cry  so  loudly,  that  at  last  we  were  obliged  to  risk  the  effort 

“ Once  we  decided  to  do  so,  it  was  not  more  than  a minute  before  open- 
ing the  door  we  all  ran  out.  As  we  glanced  about  us  we  saw  that  tha 
Indians  were  all  engaged  in  gathering  blankets  and  other  plunder  front 
the  burn  buildings.  Thinking  this  would  give  us  a favorable  opportunity 
we  dashed  on  with  all  our  speed. 

“ Keep  in  a single  line,  and  run  so  as  to  have  the  building  between  you 
aud  the  red  devils ! ” exclaimed  Frank  Dresser. 

“ We  followed  his  advice,  and  had  run  about  three  hundred  feet  when 
a fierce  yell  told  us  that  we  were  discovered. 

“ Run ! run  ! now  or  never ! ” shouted  brave  Frank,  and,  wheeling 
’round  he  came  to  a halt,  and  brought  his  rifle  up  for  a shot  But  the  act 
did  not  seem  to  deter  the  savages  for  a single  moment,  though  they  knew 
he  was  a dead  marksman.  We  did  not  see  what  became  of  him,  aud  I 
was  encouraging  mother  to  renewed  exertion,  when  all  at  once  she  ex- 
claimed : 

“Oh,  Josie,  I am  shot!” 

“The  Indians  were  close  upon  us  now,  and  began  shouting  out: 

“Stop,  squaw ! White  squaws  stop!  We  no  shoot!  Come  with 
us !” 

“Perceiving  that  farther  flight  was  only  madness,  I halted  and  put  my 
arm  around  mother  te  help  her  to  stand,  as  the  bullet  had  cut  her  thigh 
badly  Mrs.  Price  also  halted,  and  in  a moment  more  we  were  in  the 
midst  of  our  pursuers. 

“A  TJte  brave,  named  Pursane,  seized  hold  of  me  first,  and  immediately 
after  a second  chief,  Joseph,  took  me  on  the  other  side.  They  grasped 
me  very  tightly,  and  began  hurrying  me  back  toward  the  river,  Several 
other  savages  took  mother,  Mrs.  Price  and  the  two  children  and  marched 
them,  or  more  correctly  speaking  dragged  them  to  the  camp  of  Douglass. 

“ Presently  we  came  to  a deep,  wide  ditch  that  father  had  caused  the 
Indians  to  dig  for  the  purpose  of  irrigating  some  fields,  I drew  back  and 
refused  to  go  into  it,  saying  I was  unable  to  cross  it. 

“ Ugh  !”  grunted  Joseph,  “you  no  go  when  me  tell  Me  show  squaw! 
New  come  1” 

“Then  I was  dragged  through  by  main  force,  I thought  they  would 
Dull  my  arms  out.  Having  on  nothing  but  light  moceasins,  and  my  skirts 
Pruning  saturated  with  the  water,  I was  in  a miserable  plight  when  I 
trough  The  brutal  captors  who  had  the  other  two  ladies  and  the 


ACCOUNT  OP  IT  ALL. 


children,  dragged  them  through  the  same  ditch.  I did  not  know  which 
to  pity  the  most,  my  poor  wounded  mother,  or  the  two  children  in  their 
soaking  wet  and  muddy  clothes.  The  Indians  seemed  to  take  special  de- 
light in  this  display  of  their  hatred  and  revenge,  because  this  ditch  was 
for  agriculture,  and  they  abominated  it  for  that  reason. 

“ On  the  other  side  the  two  had  me  began  to  quarrel  as  to  which  of 
them  I belonged.  I had  often  read  of  the  atrocities  that  savages  practiceed 
on  their  female  captives,  and  I made  up  my  mind  that  I would  fight  the 
moment  there  was  any  insult  offered  me,  and  that  I would  keep  up  the 
fight  until  they  had  killed  me.  Hot  only  that,  but  I resolved  not  to  be  in 
the  least  afraid  of  them.  There  I knew  lay  the  best  chance  of  good 
usage  for  us  all,  for  Indians  not  only  admire,  but  also  respect  bravery, 
especially  in  women.  So  during  all  our  captivity  whenever  there  was 
any  rough  handling  toward  either  mother  or  Mrs.  Price  or  the  children, 
I did  not  hesitate  to  take  their  part,  notwithstanding  the  threats  of  shoot- 
ing and  stabbing  me  that  were  freely  indulged  in  by  the  Indians.  And 
I feel  firmly  convinced  that  it  was  to  this  demeanor — and  Mrs.  Price  did 
the  same  thing — that  the  lives  of  us  all  were  not  taken. 

“ Joseph  pushed  Pursane  away  with  great  violence  and  ordered  him  to 
go  off  and  give  me  up  to  him.  But  Pursane  just  as  angrily  refused  to  do 
anything  of  the  sort,  and  a terrible  quarrel  ensued.  I remained  perfectly 
indifferent,  walking  along. 

11  Several  times  the  two  drew  out  bottles  of  whiskey  and  took  drinks- 
I noticed  the  bottles  were  strange;  we  had  none  like  them  about  the 
agency,  father  always  being  exceedingly  strict  about  preventing  any 
liquor  coming  to  the  agency. 

“After  awhile  Joseph  walked  off  and  left  Pursane  victorious.  I must 
add  in  justice,  that  this  Indian  became  I may  say  almost  devoted  to  me 
after  this  incident,  and  treated  me  with  respect  and  considerable  kindness. 

“ When  we  reached  the  river,  Pursane  led  me  to  a pile  of  blankets  that 
ho  had  stolen  from  the  store  rooms  at  the  agency.  He  left  me  there  -while 
he  went  away,  and  when  he  came  back  he  had  a lot  more  beside  some 
other  plunder.  With  him  also  he  brought  an  immense  mule  on  which  to 
transfer  his  booty.  I recognized  the  Janinml  as  one  belonging  to  the 
Government  at  the  agency.  Until  now  Douglass  had  remained  in  the 
vicinity  but  now  he  went  away.  He  is  a bad  Indian,  and  treated  us  very, 
very  badly. 

“ During  the  night  all  the  savages  gathered  with  the  goods  and  ani- 
mals they  had  stolen,  on  the  river  bank  preparatory  to  retreating  into  the 
southern  wilderness,  for  they  were  well  aware  that  the  troops  would  soon 
be  in  pursuit  of  them. 

“ Early  next  morning  thay  started,  and  from  words  and  expressions 


10 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


which  I could  understand  in  their  language  I could  make  out  that  the 
most  knowing  ones  among  them  couucilled  that  we  prisoners  be  kept 
alive,  and  not  abused  too  much,  in  order  that  when  overtaken  they  might 
use  us  as  hostages  for  their  own  safety  and  to  enable  them  to  make  better 
terms  than  they  otherwise  could.  Others  again  were  in  favor  of  putting 
us  to  death  by  the  most  frightful  tortures,  and  several  times  a day  some 
of  these  fiends  would  come  and  strike  us  and  tell  us  in  the  most  hideous 
and  revoltiug  language  what  they  would  do  to  us.  It  was  sometimes 
quite  shocking  and  bestial,  the  way  they  talked.  And  I had  to  call  out 
to  mother  every  now  and  then  not  to  mind  them,  and  to  utter  words  of 
encouragement  to  her.  I varied  this  with  upbraiding  the  savages  with 
their  meanness  and  cowardice. 

“ Brave  warriors  ought  to  plague  warriors  or  soldiers,  and  not  women 
who  cannot  defend  themselves.  Go  fight  boys  ! You  are  not  men  but 
old  women !” 

“I  taunted  them  in  this  way  until  they  would  be  ashamed  and  sneak 
away.  One  fellow  rushed  at  me  with  a huge  butcher  knife  in  a frightful 
passion  and  threatened  to  kill  me.  There  were  twenty  or  thirty  of  his 
companions.  I laughed  at  him,  though  my  heart  was  in  my  mouth  with 
fear,  and  I exclaimed : 

‘•  I’m  not  afraid  of  such  as  you  ! All  the  scalps  you  ever  took  you  got 
off  of  women’s  heads.  You  never  took  a scalp  from  any  brave  like  these 
warriors  here.  Go  be  a squaw  I” 

“ As  I spoke  I gave  him  a violent  push  and  sent  him  head  over  heels. 
Instantly  the  others  joined  in  a chorus  of  jeers  and  groans  at  him,  and  he 
actually  ran  away  into  a tent  to  hide  himself 

“ What  about  the  incident  between  you  and  the  Chief  Douglass  ? Was 
he  not  going  to  shoot  you  ? ” 

“ Yes,  he  thought  he  would  scare  me,  and  so  one  day  cocking  his  rifle, 
he  put  the  end  of  the  muzzle  right  against  my  temple  and  said  he  would 
shoot  me.  He  did  this  three  or  four  times,  and  each  time  I stood  firmly, 
and  told  him  : 

“ Shoot  if  you  want  to ! I am  not  afraid  of  you,  nor  your  gun.” 

“On  this  occasion  as  on  the  others,  this  display  of  bravery — though  1 
did  not  feel  it  much,  I can  tell  you — aroused  the  admiration  of  the 
savages.  Douglass,  like  the  other  bully,  sneaked  away  much  chagrined, 
and  unable  to  wreak  his  revenge  on  me,  for  had  he  killed  or  even  injured 
me  then,  he  won  d have  been  forever  disgraced  as  a warrior. 

‘ I r>  was  a lovely  morning  that  the  savages  started  with  us  prisoners 
southward,  and  though  we  dreaded  what  was  coming  we  little  knew  how 
dreadful  it  would  really  be.  Many  a longing,  sorrowful  glance  did  we 
cast  bei.md  us  as  our  animals  bore  us  away.  But  there  was  no  help  for 
it,  and  we  tried  to  be  as  cheerful  as  we  possibly  could  under  the  distres. 


ACJOUNX  OF  li  ALL. 


II 


sing  circumstances.  The  horse  I was  riding  on  had  a saddle  but  no 
bridle,  nothing  but  a halter  strap,  and  this  was  no  good,  as  it  ivas  en- 
entirely  too  short,  and  was  constantly  dropping  off  his  neck.  May  Price,, 
the  little  girl,  was  fastened  on  the  animal  behind  me  with  deer-hide 
thongs.  Pursane  rode  beside  me  and  urged  on  the  pack  mules. 

Mother  was  forced  to  mount  on  a raw-boned  brute  behind  Douglass. 
The  position  was  an  awful  one  and  she  endured  the  most  acute  agony, 
i*eing  obliged  to  stride  the  horse  and  hold  on  to  the  half-drunken  savage 
before  her  to  keep  from  falling  off.  Har  hip  hurt  her  very  badly  where  it 
ha<l  been  broken  once,  as  I have  described.  Added  to  this  was  the  bullet 
wound  in  her  thigh,  which  was  at  least  three  inches  long  and  exceedingly 
sore,  though  some  of  the  squaws  had  applied  a poultice  of  crushed  herbs 
to  it.  Luckily  the  ball  had  ouly  ploughed  a path  through  the  flesh.  Had 
it  gone  deep  in  aud  lodged,  peor  mother  would  never  have  lived  through 
the  week.  Indeed,  I fear  as  it  is  she  will  never  recover  from  the  effects 
of  this  awful  tribulation  and  suffering,  and  the  murder,  the  barbarous 
murder  of  my  dear  father. 

“ Douglass  was  the  worst  wretch  of  an  Indian  I ever  did  see;  for  if 
he  had  been  allowed  to  have  his  way  not  one  of  us  would  have  lived  to 
tell  the  tale. 

“One  night  after  threatening  me  and  Mrs.  Price,  this  red  devil  incarnate 
walked  over  to  the  tent  where  mother  was,  and  putting  his  knife  at  her 
throat,  told  her  he  was  going  to  kill  her.  She  screamed  out.  He  told 
me  before  he  left  my  tent  what  he  was  going  to  do,  and  that  I would  see 
her  dead  in  the  morning.  But  I knew  he  dared  not  do  such  a thing, 
under  existing  ciscumstances,  and  so  when  mother  screamed  I called  out 
to  her  in  a loud  voice : 

“ Pm  all  safe,  mother!  don’t  be  afraid  of  Douglass,  he  can’t  hurt  you  ! 
He’s  only  trying  to  scare  you  ! 

“ A few  hours  later  a lot  of  Indians  came  drinkiug  and  dancing  around 
my  bed,  and  the  squaws  would  laugh  and  make  significant  motions 
towards  me,  and  say  something  to  the  bucks.  Then  they  would  all  laugh 
and  dance  again.  I adhered  to  my  storical  indifference  aud  defiauce  of 
them,  for  I felt  more  than  ever  that  safety  for  us  all  lay  in  carrying  out 
that  ruse. 

••  Pursane  in  the  morning  led  my  horse  up  to  the  tent  and  knelt  down 
on  his  hands  and  knees  in  order  that  I might  mount.  This*  he  always 
did  when  he  was  present,  and  when  he  was  away  fighting  our  soldiers 
1 j is  squaw  did  it  for  me.  This  was  a mark  of  special  favor,  and  was  done 
lor  none  of  the  rest,  nor  did  I see  it  done  among  the  Indians  at  all. 

“ Had  it  not  been  for  my  anxiety  about  mother  I should  have  thought 
the  scenery  through  which  we  were  traveling  at  night  exceedingly  ro- 
mantic, for  the  moon  shone  so  brightly  aud  the  atmosphere  in  the  moun* 


12 


BRA  VE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


tains  was  so  clear  that  everything  became  so  distinct,  as  though  it  were 
day.  We  all  suffered  very  much,  but  mother  beyond  the  power  of  tongue 
or  pen  to  describe. 

“ Little  Mary  Price,  we  called  her  Marne,  cried  very  bitterly  once  in  a 
while,  for  her  mother,  Mrs.  Price  was  separated  from  her,  being  in  Jack’s 
camp.  I comforted  the  poor  child  as  well  as  1 could. 

“About  midnight  of  the  second  day’s  march,  or  flight,  for  the  Indians 
were  now  sure  the  troops  w*re  in  hot  pursuit,  we  halted  in  a deep  can- 
yon, whose  terrific  walls  seemed  to  go  np  right  into  the  sky.  I had  not 
seen  mother  since  abeut  noon,  and  on  asking  for  her  was  told  that  she 
was  half  or  three-quarters  of  a mile  behind  us  in  the  canyon  I inquired 
whether  she  would  not  be  brought  up  so  that  I might  be  with  her,  but  I 
was  told  she  would  not,  nor  did  my  captors  permit  me,  as  I would  gladly 
have  done,  to  go  back  to  where  Douglass  had  her.  1 could  not  sleep  ail 
night  on  account  of  thinking  about  her. 

“ Pursane  had  plenty  of  the  stolen  blankets,  and  putting  a pile  of  them 
down,  he  rolled  up  two  others  like  a bolster,  and  told  me  that  was  my 
bed  After  doing  so  he  went  away,  and  the  squaws  came  and,  grouping 
themselves  around  me,  began  their  old  tricks  of  grinning  at  me  and  mock- 
ing me. 

I took  no  notice  of  them,  for  had  I done  so  they  would  most  likely  have 
set  upon  me  and  ben  ten  me,  and  perhaps  added  torture,  for  they  ore  par- 
ticularly bitter  and  merciless  toward  any  white  woman  whom  any  of  the 
braves  show  the  slightest  attention  to.  While  I remained  silent  I knew 
they  would  not  abuse  me,  except  with  their  tongues. 

“ Their  language  was  awful,  beyond  description,  far  worse  than  the 
men’s.  I did  not  care  for  them,  however;  and  presently  I fell  into  a 
troubled  slumber,  in  which  I dreamed  some  terrible  dreams,  through 
which  floated  the  scenes  of  the  past  two  weeks  with  the  most  horrifying 
distinctness. 

“ When  I awoke  the  sun  was  shining  brilliantly  across  the  canyon.  I 
helped  Pursane’s  squaw  to  cook  some  steaks  and  corn  cakes.  After 
taking  a hasty  breakfast,  Pursane  hurried  away  to  fight  the  soldiers,  who 
were  in  pursuit  of  us.  Before  he  went,  however,  he  gave  his  wife  strict 
charge  concerning  me. 

“ She  waa  a kind  hearted  woman,  as  indeed  were  several  other  squaws. 
It  must  not  be  supposed  that  all  the  Utes  are  like  Douglass  and  Jane. 
There  are  among  them,  both  men  and  women,  who,  in  their  rude,  wild 
wav.  are  as  tender  hearted  and  really  noble  in  disposition  as  white  people, 
and  it  was  our  good  fortune,  under  the  workings  of  a special  providence, 
to  fall  in  with  several  of  them  during  our  enforced  residence  among 
them. 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


13 


"I  may  say  more,  which  is  that  we  all  owe  our  lives  to  the  sister  of 
Chief  Ouray,  for  when  the  soldiers  had  engaged  the  savages  and  -were 
defeated,  there  was  a council  called  as  to  what  should  be  done  with  us- 
prisoners.  At  that  council  our  enemies  were  getting  the  best  of  it,  and 
were  clamoring  to  have  us  all  burned  at  the  stake,  when  this  brave  squaw 
did  what  has  never  been  done  yet  by  an  Indian  woman.  She  strode  into 
the  council  and  insisted  on  speaking,  would  be  heard,  and  refused  to  b« 
quiet.  She  then  delivered  an  eloquent  and  convincing  speech,  in  which 
she  told  the  braves  wrhat  would  be  the  result  of  injuring  us,  and  explained 
fully  to  them  the  advantages  that  would  undoubtedly  accrue  to  their  own 
side  by  returning  us  unharmed  to  our  friends.  It  was  wTell  known  to  all 
the  warriors  that  she  had  great  influence  with  Ouray.  To  disobey  Ouray 
was  death,  and  so  wTith  their  natural  shrewdness  they  saw  that  it  would 
be  best  to  accede  to  the  good  squaw’s  demand.  We  were  thus  saved. 

The  same  day  mother  came  up  to  see  me,  in  company  with  a little  In- 
dian girl.  On  Wednesday,  the  next  day,  Johnson  went  over  to  Jack’s 
camp  and  brought  back  Mrs.  Price  and  her  baby  to  live  in  his  camp.  He 
said  he  had  made  it  all  right  with  the  other  TJtes.  We  did  not  do  any- 
thing but  be  around  the  various  camps  and  listen  to  the  talk  of  the  squaws 
whose  husbands  were  away  fighting  the  soldiers. 

On  Wednesday  and  on  other  days  one  of  Supanzisquait’s  three  squaws 
put  her  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  said  : 

“ Poor  little  girl,  I feel  so  sorry ; you  have  no  father,  and  you  are  away 
off  with  the  TJtes  so  far  away  from  home.” 

She  cried  all  the  time  and  said  her  own  little  child  had  just  died  an’ 
her  heart  was  sore. 

When  Mrs.  Price  came  into  camp  another  squaw  took  her  baby, 
Johnny,  into  her  arms  and  went  over  him  and  said  in  TJte  that  she  felt  very 
sorry  for  the  captives 

Next  day  the  squaws  and  me  few  Indians  who  were  there  packed  up 
and  moved  the  camp  ten  or  twelve  miles,  into  an  exceedingly  beautiful 
valley,  with  high  mountains  all  around  it.  The  grass  was  two  feet  high 
and  a stream  of  pure  soft  water  ran  through  the  valley.  The  water  was 
so  cold  I could  hardly  drink  it.  Every  night  the  Indians,  some  of  whom 
had  come  back  from  the  soldiers,  held  councils.  Mr.  Brady  had  just 
come  up  from  the  TTncompahgre  Agency  with  a message  from  Chief 
Ouray  for  the  Indians  to  stop  fighting  the  soldiers.  He  had  delivered  the 
message,  and  this  was  why  so  many  came  back. 

On  Sunday  most  of  them  were  in  camp.  They  saw  they  had  the 
soldiers  hemmed  in  a canyon  and  were  merely  guarding  them.  Pursune 
came  back,  wearing  a pair  of  blue  soldier’s  pantaloons  with  yellow  stripes 
on  the  legs.  He  took  them  off  and  gave  them  to  me  for  a pillow.  His 
legs  were  protected  with  leggings  and  he  did  not  need  them. 


14 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


I asked  the  Indians  before  Brady  came  where  the  soldiers  were.  They 
replied  that  they  were  “still  in  that  cellar,”  and  the  Indians  were  killing 
their  ponies  when  they  went  for  water  in  the  night.  They  said : 

“ Indians  stay  on  mountains  and  see  white  soldiers;  soldiers  no  see 
Indian.  White  soldier  not  know  how  to  fight.” 

One  their  favorite  amusements  was  to  put  on  a negro  soldier’s  cap,  a 
short  coat  and  blue  pantaloons,  and  imitate  the  negroes  in  speech  and 
walk,  I could  not  help  laughing  because  they  were  so  accurate  in  their 
personations.  On  Sunday  they  made  a pile  of  sage  brush  as  large  as  a 
washstand  and  put  soldiers’  clothes  and  a hat  on  the  pile ; then  they 
danced  a war  dance  and  sang  as  they  waltzed  around  it.  They  were  in 
their  best  clothes,  with  plumes  and  fur  dancing  caps,  made  of  skunk  skins 
and  grizzly  bear  skins,  with  ornaments  of  eagle  feathers.  Two  or  three 
begun  the  dance,  others  joined,  until  a ring  as  large  as  a house  was 
formed.  There  were  some  squaws,  and  all  had  knives.  They  charged 
on  the  pile  of  coats  with  their  knives  and  pretended  they  would  burn  the 
brush.  They  became  almost  insane  with  frenzy  and  excitement.  The 
dance  lasted  from  two  o’clock  until  sundown.  Then  they  took  the  coats 
and  all  went  home. 

On  Sunday  night  Jack  came  and  made  a big  speech,  also  Johnson. 
They  said  more  troops  were  coming,  and  they  recited  wbat  orders  they 
sav  had  been  brought  from  Chief  Ouray.  They  were  in  great  commotion, 
and  did  not  know  what  to  do.  They  talked  all  night,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing they  struck  half  their  tents  and  put  them  up  again.  Part  were  for 
going  away,  part  for  staying.  Jack’s  men  were  all  day  coming  up  into 
camp.  They  left  on  Tuesday  for  Grand  River,  and  we  had  a long  ride. 

The  cavalcade  was  fully  two  miles  long.  The  wind  blew  a hurricane, 
and  the  dust  was  so  thick  we  could  not  see  ten  feet  back  on  the  line,  and 
I could  write  my  name  on  my  hand  in  the  dust.  Most  of  the  Indians 
had  had  no  breakfast,  and  we  travelled  all  day  without  dinner  or  water. 
Mother  had  neither  saddle  or  stirrups,  but  merely  a few  thicknesses  of 
canvass  strapped  on  the  horse’s  back  while  the  young  chiefs  pranced 
round  on  good  saddles.  She  did  not  reach  Grand  River  until  after  dark 
and  the  ride  for  an  invalid  and  aged  woman  was  long  and  distressing. 
The  camp  that  night  was  in  the  sage  brush.  In  the  morning,  Wednes- 
day, we  moved  five  miles  down  the  river. 

A part  of  the  agency  herd  was  driven  along  with  the  procession,  and 
a beef  was  killed  each  day.  As  I was  requested  to  cook  most  of  the 
time  and  make  the  bread  I did  not  suffer  from  the  filth  of  ordinary  Indian 
fare. 

While  at  this  camp  Pursune  absented  himself  four  days  and  brought 
in  three  fine  horses  and  a lot  of  lead,  which  he  made  into  bullets.  John- 


. 


. 


The  Indians’  Victory  Dance  around  the  coats  and  caps  of  the  dead  soldiers 
$)eu  ^iegegtanj  toerSuti'aner  urn  t>ie  9toctc  unt>  sHiit$t'nbev  gcfaflencn  §>ottoflten. 


ACCOUNT  OP  IT  ALL. 


17 


son  also  had  a sack  of  powder.  The  chief  amusement  was  running 
bullets. 

No  whites  are  admitted  to  the  tents  while  the  Utes  sing  their  medicine 
songs  over  the  sick,  but  I,  being  considered  one  of  Pursane’e  family,  was 
allowed  to  remain.  When  their  child  was  sick  his  family  asked  me  to 
sing  with  them,  which  I did.  The  Medicine  Man  kneels  close  to  the 
sufferers,  with  his  back  to  the  spectators,  while  he  sings  in  a series  of 
high-keyed  grunts  gradually  reaching  a lower  and  solemn  tone.  The 
family  join,  and  at  intervals  he  howls  so  loudly  that  one  can  hear  him  a 
mile;  then  his  voice  dies  away  and  only  a gurgling  sound  is  heard,  as  if 
his  throat  was  full  of  water.  The  child  lay  nearly  stripped.  The  doctor 
presses  his  lips  against  the  breast  of  the  sufferer  and  repeats  the  gurgling 
sound.  He  sings  a few  minutes  more,  and  then  all  turn  around  and 
smoke  and  laugh  and  talk.  Sometimes  the  ceremony  is  repeated  all  night. 
I assisted  at  two  of  these  medicine  festivals.  Mrs.  Price’s  boy  became 
expert  at  singing  Ute  songs,  and  they  sang  to-*each  other  on  the  journey 
home.  The  sick  bed  ceremonies  were  very  strange  and  weird,  and  more 
interesting  then  anything  I saw  in  all  my  captivity  of  twenty -three  days. 

We  stayed  on  the  Grand  River  until  Saturday.  The  mountains  were 
very  high,  and  the  Indians  were  on  the  peaks  with  glasses  watching  the 
soldiers.  They  said  they  could  look  down  on  the  site  of  the  agency.  On 
Saturday  morning  the  programme  was  for  twenty  Utes  to  go  back  to 
White  River,  scout  around  on  the  mountains  and  watch  the  soldiers;  but 
just  as  they  were  about  to  depart  there  was  a terrible  commotion,  for 
some  of  the  scouts  on  the  mountains  had  discovered  the  troops,  ten  or 
fifte*en  miles  south  of  the  agency,  advancing  towards  our  camp.  The 
Indians  ran  in  every  direction,  the  horses  became  excited,  and  for  a time 
hardly  a pony  could  be  approached.  Johnson  flies  into  a passion  when 
there  is  danger.  This  time  his  horses  kicked  and  confusion  was  supreme. 
Johnson  seized  a whip  and  laid  it  over  the  shoulders  of  his  youngest 
squaw,  named  Cooz.  He  pulled  her  hair  and  renewed  the  lash.  Then 
he  turned  to  assist  his  other  wife  pack,  and  the  colts  ran  and  kicked. 

While  Mrs.  Price  and  myself  were  watching  the  scene  a young  buck 
came  up  with  a gun  and  threatened  to  shoot  us.  We  told  him  to  shoot 
away,  and  Mrs.  Price  requested  him  to  shoot  her  in  the  forehead.  He  said 
we  were  no  good  squaws  because  we  would  not  scare.  We  did  not  move 
until  noon,  then  we  travelled  till  nightfall  and  camped  on  the  Grand 
River  in  a nice  grassy  place  under  some  trees  by  the  water. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  but  alas ! it  was  not  a day  of  rest  to 
ns  miserables.  Runners  were  coming  in  every  hour  or  so  with  their 
horses  smoking  and  ready  to  drop.  Each  fresh  one  brought  news  of  the 
approach  of  the  soldiers,  and  of  course  our  captives  became  more  and 
more  excited. 


2 


IS 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER  S 


“ I shall  never  forget  that  terrible  Sunday.  To  add  to  our  misery  the 
rum  fell  in  torrents,  and  yet  before  we  halted  at  night  we  had  travelled 
twenty -eight  or  thirty  miles,  all  the  way  along  the  Grand  River.  These 
heavy  rains  continued  for  several  days,  and  mother  and  Mrs.  Price  were 
kept  travelling  as  hard  as  the  horses  could  go.  But  I during  the  last 
half  of  the  time  was  in  camp.  Johnson  had  Mrs.  Price,  and  when  finally 
he  came  to  a halt  ahead  of  us  the  Indians  in  our  rear  also  marched  past 
us  and  camped  with  him. 

The  following  Friday  Johnson  held  a long  talk  with  Douglass,  and 
as  the  result,  took  mother  to  his  tent.  His  wife,  to  whom  as  I have  said, 
we  really  all  owed  our  lives,  and  who  is  Ouray’s  sister,  cried  almost  con- 
stantly over  us,  and  made  good,  substantial  shoes  for  the  children,  both 
of  whom  she  kissed  again  and  again  saying  her  heart  was  sore  to  see 
them  so. 

“ There  was  another  squaw  who  also  lamented  for  us,  but  as  she  had 
no  powerful  chief  for  her  brother,  her  husband,  named  Cohocha,  obtained 
a heavy  raw-hide  whip,  and  seizing  the  poor  creature  by  the  hair  whipped 
her  in  the  most  brutal  and  unmerciful  manner,  and  when  he  had  got 
through  with  his  cowardly  assault,  ordered  her  to  pack  up  for  another 
march,  threatening  if  she  did  not  have  all  ready  by  the  time  he  returned 
he  would  kill  her.  Then  the  hero  stalked  off  as  though  he  had  done  a 
very  commendable  act. 

“ The  Utes  were  now  close  upon  the  Uncompabgre  district,  and  for 
that  reason  could  not  retreat  much  further.  The  troops  also  were  ad- 
vancing against  them.  Immediately  after  this,  however,  news  came  in 
that  the  pursuit  had  halted  in  order  that  General  Adams,  who  had  been 
sent  specially  by  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior  to  treat  with  our  captors 
for  our  surrender.  This  was  good  news  for  us. 

“ Yet  we  began  to  fear  nothing  would  be  accomplished,  for  the  same 
day  we  were  marched  a whole  day  further  to  the  south  and  west  and 
camped  on  a stream  called  Plateau  Creek.  The  next  day  after  that  we 
were  marched  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  still  further  off,  and  it  began  to  look 
as  though  we  should  be  dragged  from  pillar  to  post  and  kept  out  of  the 
reach  of  our  friends. 

“Thank  God,  though,  our  sufferings  were  soon  to  end,  and  we  were 
not  worried  again. 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL 


19 


THE  RESCUE. 

“ I shall  never  forget  the  day,  which  I can  truly  say  was  the  happiest 
of  my  whole  life.  On  Monday  a runner  came  into  camp  to  say  that  Gen- 
eral Adams,  the  “Washington  Chief, ” would  surely  come  in,  and  that 
we  must  not  go  away,  or  there  would  be  trouble. 

“The  day  following,  as  I was  sitting  sewing  in  Pursane’s  tent,  his  boy 
hurried  in,  and  taking  up  a robe  and  blanket,  he  spread  them  out  and 
said  to  me  : 

“ You  must  go  to  bed.” 

“ I laughed  at  the  urchin  and  answered : 

“Why  no,  it’s  not  night  yet,  and  I am  not  sleepy.” 

“ My  heart  gave  a great  leap  of  joy  at  hearing  the  request,  for  I per- 
ceived at  once  that  there  was  a ruse  in  all  this  to  get  me  concealed. 
From  this,  too,  I felt  sure  that  the  rescuers  had  come,  and  that  Pursane 
wanted  to  keep  me  out  of  the  road  until  they  had  gone  away.  His  object 
in  this  was  to  induce  me  to  marry  him  and  live  among  the  Ute  tribe. 

“ Immediately  I began  to  act  as  though  I suspected  nothing 
“Go  away,”  said  I to  the  boy,  “go  away  and  don’t  bother  me,  I 
have  all  this  sewing  to  do,  and  I’ll  be  two  or  three  hours  before  I get 
through.” 

M The  lad  had  evidently  been  sent  to  do  what  he  did,  and  mv  seemin'? 
indifference  threw  him  off  his  guard,  and  after  loitering  a little  he  went 
out.  Scarcely  had  he  done  so,  however,  befere  a big  squaw  came  to  the 
tent  and  hung  a blanket  over  the  opening  so  that  I could  not  see  out.  In 
a,  moment  I was  on  my  feet,  and  peeping  over  the  top  edge  of  it  I beheld 
General  Adams  and  his  escort  mounted  on  their  horses  at  a little  distance. 
This  sight  made  me  tremble  with  hope  and  expectation,  and  for  a few 
moments  I could  not  move.  But  quickly,  very  quickly  I recovered  my- 
self, and  the  strength  of  Hercules  seemed  to  possess  me.  Taking  hold  of 
the  blanket  I ripped  it  down  as  though  it  had  been  paper,  and  sprang 
outside  the  tent,  where  the  squaw,  a powerful-looking  woman,  confronted 
me.  An  instant  more  and  I seized  her  and  flung  her  away  like  she  had 
been  a dhild,  and  then  bounded  to  General  Adams  with  the  glad  cry  : 

“ Oh,  sir,  God  bless  you  for  saving  us  !” 

“ Where  are  the  rest  ?”  inquired  he,  taking  me  kindly  by  the  hand. 
“ You  ladies  have  had  a rough  time  of  it  no  doubt.” 

“ Yes,  sir,  we  have  indeed  ; but,  thank  God,  we  are  safe  now.” 

“Well,  we  have  come  for  you  and  we’ll  take  you  if  we  have  to  fight 
through  the  whole  way.” 


20 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


“ My  heart  was  so  full  that  I could  not  answer  a word.  Seeinf  how 
I was  embarrassed  the  General  inquired  in  a kind  voice: 

“ What  is  your  name  ?” 

“ I told  him  and  then  he  talked  encouragingly  to  me,  and  made  mr 
fee  1 much  better.  I showed  him  the  tent  where  the  rest  were,  but,  as  f 
have  already  told  you,  they  were  not  there. 

“Next  morning  we  left  for  Uncompaghre  in  charge  of  Captain  Climv 
and  Mr.  Sherman.  The  Captain  had  served  as  scout  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  and  Mr.  Sherman  as  Chief  Clerk  in  Los  Pinos  Agency.  To 
these  gentlemen  we  were  indebted  for  a safe  and  rapid  journey  to  Chief 
Ouray’s  house  on  the  Uncompaghre  River,  near  Los  Pinos.  We  rode  on 
ponies  forty  miles  the  first  three  days,  and  reached  Captain  Cline’s  wagons 
on  a small  tributary  of  the  Grand.  Here  we  took  the  buck-board  wagon 
and  travelled  next  day  to  the  Gunnison  River,  and  the  next  and  last  day 
of  fear  we  travelled  forty-five  miles,  and  reached  the  house  of  good  Chief 
Ouray  about  sundown. 

“ Here  Inspector  Pollock  and  my  brother  Ralph  met  me,  and  I was 
happy  enough.  Chief  Ouray  and  his  noble  wife  did  everything  possible 
to  make  us  comfortable.  We  found  carpets  on  the  floor  and  curtains  on 
the  windows,  lamps  on  the  tables  and  stoves  in'  the  rooms,  with  fires 
burning.  We  were  given  a whole  house,  and  after  supper  we  went  to 
bed  without  much  fear,  though  mother  was  haunted  by  the  terrors  she 
had  passed  through.  Next  morning  we  breakfasted  with  Mrs.  Ouray, 
who  shed  tears  over  us  as  she  bade  us  goodby.  Then  we  took  mail 
wagons  and  stages  for  home.  Three  days  ana  one  night  of  constant 
travel  over  two  ranges  of  snowy  mountains,  where  the  road  was  eleven 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  brought  us  to  the  beautiful  park  of  San 
Luis. 

We  crossed  to  Rio  Grande  at  daylight  for  the  last  time,  and  a moment 
later  the  stage  and  its  four  horses  dashed  up  a street,  and  we  stopped  be- 
fore  a hotel  with  green  blinds,  while  the  driver  shouted:  “ Alamosa.”  The 
moon  was  shining  brightly,  and  Mount  Blanco,  the  highest  peak  in  Col- 
orado, stood  out  grandly  from  the  four  , great  ranges  which  surround  the 
park.  Mother  could  hardly  stand.  She  had  to  be  lifted  from  the  coach, 
but  when  she  caught  sight  sight  of  the  cars  of  the  Rio  Grande  Railroad, 
and  when  she  saw  the  telegraph  poles,  her  eyes  brightened  and  she  ex- 
claimed : 

‘Now  I feel  safe.” 

Thus  ended  the  narrative  of  Miss  Josephine  Meeker,  the  bravest  heroine 

of  the  frontier. 

The  following  is  the  experience  of  Mrs.  Meeker,  wife  of  the  murdered 
agent  and  mother  of  Josephine. 


.CCOUNT  OF  IT  ALD. 


n 


THE  MOTHER’S  STORY. 

I went  with  my  daughter  Josephine  to  the  White  River  Agency,  where 
we  joined  my  late  husband  (the  agent)  July  IT,  18T8.  We  did  not  like 
the  site  of  the  old  agency,  as  it  was  in  a canyon.  The  altitude  was  too 
high  for  the  practice  of  agriculture,  and  the  winds  blew  fiercely  and  con- 
stantly. The  Government,  therefore,  gave  permission  to  Mr.  Meeker  to 
move  the  agency  twenty  miles  farther  down  the  White  River  to  a beau- 
tiful valley,  where  the  grass  is  always  green,  where  there  is  no  snow, 
and  where  there  is  plenty  of  laud  to  cultivate  and  timber  in  abundance. 
There  was  a magnificent  view  of  the  mountains,  and  the  rivers  were 
swarming  with  speckled  trout.  I have  not  seen  a more  charming  spot 
anywhere.  Comfortable  buildings  were  erected  and  fine  avenues  were 
laid  out.  One  of  tnese,  the  main  street,  which  ran  as  straight  as  a line 
from  the  canon  to  the  agency,  was  named  after  Chief  Douglass.  My 
husband  was  preparing  to  plant  mountain  evergreens  on  both  sides  of  it. 
The  agency  grounds  were  well  kept.  The  government  Indian  farm  was 
enclosed  with  a neat  wire  fence,  and  it  produced  all  kinds  of  crops.  The 
Indians,  until  the  mutiny,  helped  to  cultivate  the  soil.  They  raised  po- 
tatoes, beets,  turnips  and  other  vegetables.  The  white  employes  planted 
the  wheat.  In  the  agency  yard  I had  some  flowers,  such  as  verbenas, 
mignonette,  petunias  and  others  of  a more  common  sort.  The  Indians 
seemed  to  like  the  improvements,  and  they  admired  the  flowers.  On  ra- 
tion days  their  children  were  to  be  seen  with  bunehes  of  flowers  in  their 
bands.  A large,  irrigating  canal  was  built  by  the  Indians  under  the 
agent’s  direction.  It  would  water  the  whole  valley.  My  husband  dis- 
covered five  or  six  good  coal  mines  in  the  vicinity,  at  three  of  which 
there  was  a large  quantity  of  loose  coal  all  ready  for  removal.  It  was  as 
good  coal  as  any  in  Colorado,  and  when  used  in  the  blacksmith  forge  it 
burned  well. 

Trouble  begau  when  the  agent  indicated  an  intention  of  ploughing 
eighty  acres  of  land  lying  between  Douglass  avenue  and  the  river.  The 
Indians  had  not  used  the  land  except  for  their  ponies  to  run  on.  It  was 
open  and  unoccupied.  As  soon  as  he  heard  of  any  dissatisfaction  about 
the  matter  the  agent  called  the  Indians  together,  and  settled  it  by  ob- 
taining the  consent  of  the  majority  of  the  Indians  to  plough.  Chief 
Johnson  failed  to  attend  the  council,  and  when  the  Utes  gave  their  per- 
mission he  grew  angry,  and  it  was  his  son  who  shot  at  the  ploughman 
Afterward  Johnson  said  he  was  “ No  angry;”  but  back  of  all  this  there 
wTere  signs  of  wickedness  and  secret  plotting,  suspicious  movements,  in- 
creasing rumors,  large  sales  of  ammunition  and  false  charges  that  the 


22 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


agent  had  cut  down  the  rations.  This  last  was  false.  The  Government 
had  reduced  or  changed  the  issue  of  rations  for  all  the  Indians.  My  hus- 
band gave  the  White  River  Indians  regular  and  full  government  rations, 
but  we  had  orders  from  Washington  not  to  issue  rations  to  the  Uncom- 
paghre,  Uintah,  Arapahoe  or  other  outside  visiting  Indians.  This  was 
according  to  his  official  instructions.  The  object  was  to  keep  the  Indians 
from  straying  from  the  reservation  and  wandering  around  the  country. 
fTne  Uncompaghre  Utes  complained  to  Ouray,  and  this  is  the  foundation 
for  the  statements  published  that  the  agent  withheld  their  supplies.  All 
the  White  River  Utes  proper  were  fed  according  to  law,  and  those  who 
worked  on  the  canal  received  double  rations,  extra  blankets  and  shoes 
and  all  kinds  of  agency  goods  which  they  needed.  An  Indian  woman 
was  hired  to  cook  for  the  Indian  workmen,  and  they  were  paid  $15  a 
month,  cash,  for  working  on  their  own  land. 

The  Indians  were  well  treated,  but  the  agent  did  not  purpose  to  have 
them  take  charge  of  his  household  and  office  and  dictate  to  him  how  he 
should  conduct  his  affairs.  He  would  not  tolerate  their  idleness  and  inso- 
lence, so  they  conspired  to  get  him  out  of  the  way.  They  clamored  for 
a new  agent,  and  it  was  only  when  they  heard  of  the  troops  coming  that 
they  became  frightened  at  the  result  of  their  own  work.  Jane,  the  woman 
who  first  growled  about  the  ploughing,  spoke  good  English.  After  we 
were  captured  she  said  : 

“ What  could  you  expect  ? The  Indians  had  to  kill  the  whites,  because 
neither  they  nor  the  agent  would  do  as  the  Utes  told  them  to  do.” 

On  the  morning  of  the  massacre  Doug/ass  came  to  the  agency  and 
spoke  of  soldiers  coming.  My  husband  said  : 

“ Let  them  come  They  will  not  hurt  any  one.  But  we  will  Bend  for 
all  the  chiefs  and  head  captains  and  hear  their  complaints  and  talk  the 
matter  over.” 

Douglass  did  not  say  much  and  went  away.  We  did  not  fear  any  par- 
ticular danger,  though  on  Saturday,  three  days  before  the  massacra,  they 
had  moved  their  tents  and  women  and  children  to  the  wilderness.  The 
Indian  Panvits  asked  me  on  Saturday,  Sunday  and  Monday  if  I was 
afraid.  I said,  “No.”  Panvits  was  the  husband  of  Jane. 

I was  in  the  kitchen  with  my  daughter,  washing  dishes,  about  half-past 
one  o’clock.  We  had  just  finished  dinner.  Some  of  the  Indians  had 
eaten  with  us,  and  Chief  Douglass  had  been  picking  around  the  table  and 
joking  with  my  daughter  Josephine  while  we  were  washing  the  dishes. 
There  came  a vollv  of  firearms — a succession  of  sharp  explosions.  It 
was  startling  and  I knew  what  was  coming.  My  daughter  and  I looked 
into  each  other’s  faces.  Mrs.  Price,  who  was  washing  clothes  at  the 
door,  rushed  in,  exelaiming: 

II  What  shall  we  do  f ” 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


Josephine  said,  "Keep  all  together/’  and  the  girl  was  as  cool  as  if  she 
were  receiving  callers  in  a parlor. 

The  windows  were  shot  in.  Our  first  move  was  to  get  under  the  bed 
in  Josephine’s  room  to  avoid  the  bullets,  which  was  whizzing  over  our 
heads.  Josephine  had  the  key  of  the  milk  house  and  proposed  to  go 
there.  The  bullets  were  flying  like  hailstones,  and  we  locked  ourselves 
in  the  milk  house,  which  had  double  walls  filled  in  with  adobe  clay,  and 
there  was  only  one  little  window.  We  stayed  there  all  the  afternoon  and 
heard  no  sounds  but  the  crash  of  the  guns.  We  knew  all  the  men  were 
being  killed,  and  expected  that  the  Indians  would  finish  the  day  with  the 
butchery  of  the  women.  Frank  Dr  esser  came  in  shot  through  the  leg. 
He  killed  an  Indian  just  as  we  let  him  into  the  milk  house. 

About  fire  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  the  firing  ceased  and  all  was  still. 
Suddenly  we  heard  the  low  crackle  of  flames  and  smelt  smoke.  Then  we 
saw  it  coming  through  the  cracks  in  the  ceilings,  and  knew  that  the  des- 
truction of  the  agency  buildings  had  begun. 

While  in  the  building  we  barely  whispered,  ana  tried  to  keep  Mrs. 
Price’s  babies  still.  As  the  fire  was  increasing  we  left  the  milk  house 
cautiously,  and  Josephine  reconnoitered  the  enemy. 

“ It’s  a good  time  to  escape,”  she  said.  “ The  Indians  are  busy  steal- 
ing agency  goods.” 

We  went  around  in  front  of  the  agent’s  office  and  found  the  doors  open 
and  things  undisturbed,  except  that  some  of  my  husband’s  clothing  lay 
on  the  front  stoop.  We  saw  no  one,  living  or  dead,  and  no  sign  of  any 
one  having  been  killed.  We  ran,  in  a line  with  the  buildings,  toward  the 
sage  brush,  so  as  to  keep  the  buildings  between  us  and  the  Indiaus,  who 
were  at  the  warehouse  pulling  out  the  goods,  but  we  had  not  gone  far 
before  we  were  discovered,  and  the  Indians  made  for  us,  filing  as  they 
ran  The  bullets  fell  all  around  us,  and  one  struck  me  on  the  thigh, 
ploughing  through  the  flesh,  just  under  the  skin.  It  stung  me  like  a 
wasp  and*I  thought  it'time  to  drop.  I fell  to  the  ground.  The  Indians 
captured  Josephine  and  Mrs.  Price  first,  as  they  were  behind  me,  with 
Mrs.  Price’s  babies. 

You  have  my  daugnter’s  account  Ci  ner  experience.  A chief,  whose 
name  I could  never  learn,  came  to  me  and  said  he  was  “heap  sorry.” 
He  asked  me  if  I could  get  up.  I said  “Yes.”  He  then  asked  if  I 
would  go  with  him.  I said  “ Yes.”  He  then  said  he  was  “ heap  mad  ; 
soldier  killed  Indian  ;”  he  saw  them  shoot  and  he  was  “ heap  mad  ” 
They  would  “ no  kill  women  and  children.”  The  Indians  had  so  ordered 
it.  He  said  he  would  take  me  to  Chief  Douglass’  house,  and  asked  if  I 
had  any  whiskey.  I said  “No,”  and  he  asked  if  I had  any  money.  I 
answered  that  there  was  some  in  my  room  in  the  building,  then  on  fire. 
The  Indian  told  me  to  get  it,  and  ht  would  wait  for  me.  He  was  afraid 


24 


■rave  miss  meekxr’s 


to  go  into  the  burning  building.  I got  the  money,  the  Indian  urging  me 
to  hurry  up,  as  he  had  a great  way  to  go  that  night.  We  went  to 
Douglass’  camp,  and  the  Indian  made  me  count  the  money.  There  were 
$30.  The  Indian  took  it  and  gave  it  to  Chief  Douglass.  I had  two 
silver  dollars,  and  Chief  Douglass  gave  them  to  the  Indian  who  captured 
me.  The  Indian  then  went  away. 

I told  Donglass  that  I must  have  some  blankets.  He  gent  an  Indian 
named  Thompson  to  the  burning  building  with  me,  and  I got  a hood,  a 
shawl,  and  one  blanket.  I handed  around  the  bedding,  &c.,  among  the 
Indians  rather  than  have  them  destroyed.  The  Indians  took  them,  and  I 
afterwards  saw  them  in  camp  when  I was  suffering  for  the  want  of 
blaukets  to  keep  me  warm.  I went  back  to  Douglass  and  said  that  I 
wanted  my  medicine  and  my  “ spirit  book.”  I had  doctored  Donglass 
and  his  family.  He  said,  “ Go;”  so  I went  back  a second  time,  and  got 
a large  copy  of  “ Pilgrim’s  Progress”  and  a box  of  medicines.  The  box 
was  so  heavy  that  an  Indian  refused  to  carry  it.  It  was  lost,  but  he  took 
the  book.  When  I got  back  to  Douglass  and  told  that  chief  the  Indian 
had  said  that  the  medicine  chest  was  too  heavy  to  carry,  Douglass  looked 
disappointed  and  sorrowful,  and  asked  : 

“ Couldn’t  you  have  split  the  box  a little  so  you  could  have  brought 
part  of  it  ? ” 

In  going  back  this  last  time  I saw  the  body  of  my  husband  stretched 
out  on  the  ground  in  front  of  the  warehouse ; all  the  clothing  was  gone 
but  the  shirt.  The  body  was  not  mutilated.  The  arms  were  extended 
at  the  sides  of  the  head.  The  face  looked  as  peaceful  and  natural  as  in 
life,  but  blood  was  running  from  the  mouth.  I stooped  to  kiss  him,  but 
just  as  my  lips  were  near  his  I saw  an  Indian  standing  stone  still,  looking 
at  me,  so  I turned  and  walked  away,  Douglass  afterward  said  my  hus- 
fornd  was  shot  through  the  side  of  the  head. 

Preparations  to  leave  were  immediately  made.  It  was  now  dark  and 
Douglass  lost  no  time  in  getting  started.  Being  lame  from  having  had 
a thigh  dislocated  three  years  ago,  and  not  being  used  to  riding,  1 asked 
to  ride  behind  Douglass.  The  moon  came  out  so  clearly  that  the  night 
seemed  like  day.  We  forded  the  river  and  trotted  off  toward  the  moun- 
tains to  the  south.  Douglass’  breath  smelt  strongly  of  whiskey.  He 
said : 

“ Your  father  dead ; I had  a father  once  ; he  too  dead.  Agent  no 
understand  about  fight  Indians  make.” 

The  other  Indians  all  took  out  bottles  of  whiskey,  which  they  held  up 
between  their  eyes  and  the  moon  as  they  drank  so  as  to  see  how  much  was 
left.  Douglass  as  he  rode  along  sang  what  seemed  to  be  an  obscene  song  to 
a pretty  melody  in  slow  measure.  When  he  had  finished  he  asked  me  how  I 
liked  it.  My  limb  ached  so  terribly  that  I could  scarcely  sit  on  the  horse. 


Mrs.  Meeker  fell  upon  her  knees  and  kissed  her  murdered  husband 
ffird.  Sfteefer  fan!  auf  t>ie  $nte  mu»  riijjte  ifyrctt  ermorteten  fatten. 


' 

I 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


27 


Douglass  held  it  awhile;  then  he  strapped  it  in  a kind  of  a sling  to  his 
sad. lie.  I asked  if  I should  see  my  daughter,  Josephine.  Douglass  re- 
plied, “ Yes.”  As  we  rode  a villanous  looking  Indian  trotted  alongside 
and  slapped  me  on  the  shoulder  and  asked  me  how  I would  like  to  be  his 
squaw,  and  he  made  indecent  proposals.  Chief  Douglass  listened  and 
laughed.  He  said  the  Indian  was  an  Arapahoe  and  I would  kill  Utes  if 
I married  an  Arapahoe. 

We  left  the  trail  and  came  to  a little  canyon  in  the  mountains,  with 
h:gh  rocks  on  all  sides.  All  dismounted  aud  the  prisoners  were  searched 
by  the  Indians,  even  to  our  shoes  and  stockings.  They  stole  my  pocket* 
book  which  was  full  of  needles,  and  a handkerohief,  but  they  gave  the 
handkerchief  back.  They  talked  indecently  to  us  aud  made  shameful 
proposals.  They  were  drunk,  and  the  conversation  was  loud  with  ribaldry. 
They  eren  threatened  me  with  death  if  I did  not  submit  to  their  bestiality. 
Fortunately  I escaped  outrage,  but  had  to  submit  to  terrifying  threats  of 
violence  and  death.  Douglass  went  through  the  burlesque  of  imitating 
he  employes  in  keeping  guard  at  the  agency.  He  mocked  the  soldiers, 
walking  up  and  down  with  a gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  sang. 

“ As  I lay  on  the  ground,  not  knowiug  when  I should  be  butchered,  I 
thought  of  my  young  daughter  Josephine,  who  was  not  far  away,  aud 
twondered  if  she  had  already  been  slaughtered.  My  face  was  partly  cov- 
ered, but  suddenly  I heard  Douglass’  voice.  I turned  and  saw  Chief 
Douglass  standing  close  by  me.  He  was  armed  and  threatened  to  kill 
me.  I involuntarily  cried  out.  Josephine  heard  me  and  she  called  out 
in  a loud,  brave  voice: 

“ I am  all  right,  mamma ; don’t  be  afraidl” 

Douglass  lowered  his  gun,  raised  it  ag^n  and  took  aim.  I said  noth- 
ing and  he  wTalked  away.  An  Indian  standing  near  said: 

*•  Douglass  no  hurt  you.  He  only  playing  soldier.” 

After  resting  for  half  an  hour  we  remounted  and  rode  until  midnight, 
when  we  reached  the  IJte  women’s  camp.  Douglass  ordered  me  roughly 
to  get  off  the  horse.  I was  so  lame  aud  in  such  pain  that  I told  him  1 
could  not  move.  He  took  my  hand  and  pulled  me  off,  and  I fell  on  the 
ground  because  I could  not  stand.  An  Indian  and  a squaw  soon  came 
arid  helped  me  up  and  led  me  to  a tent.  When  I went  to  bed  Douglass 
and  his  wife  covered  me  with  blankets,  and  I was  more  comfortable  that 
night  than  at  any  other  time  during  my  captivity.  Early  next  morning 
Do  i glass  awoke  me  saying: 

“ Runner  just  come;  Indians  killed  heap  soldiers;  Douglass  go  to 
fro  nr  ; gone  five  days  ; and  he  said  I must  stay  in  his  teut  and  wait  un- 
til he  returned. 

Douglass’  squaw  treated  me  very  well  for  one  or  two  days,  then  she 
began  to  ill  use  me,  and  gave  me  nothing  to  eat  for  one  day.  While 


21 


BEATS  MISS  MEEKER’S 


Douglass  was  gone  his  son-in-law  told  me  frightful  stories.  He  said  the 
India. is  “no  shoot’’  me  but  would  stab  me  to  death  with  knives.  One 
squaw  went  through  the  pantomime  of  roasting  me  alive— at  least  I so 
understood  it.  Josephine  told  me  that  it  was  only  done  to  torment  me. 
If  Douglass  had  got  killed  I would  probably  have  been  punished.  A row 
of  knives  was  prepared  with  sGabbards  and  placed  in  the  tent  for  use. 
Then  Douglass’  son-in-law,  Johnson,  came  to  me  ond  asked  if  I had  seen 
the  knives  being  fixed  all  day.  I said  “Yes.”  He  replied  that  “Indians 
perhaps  stab”  me  and  “no  shoot”  me. 

“You  say  Douglass  your  friend;  we  see  Douglass  when  come  back 
from  soldiers.” 

Mauy  of  the  squaws  looked  very  sorrowful,  as  if  some  great  calamity 
were  about  to  happen  ; others  were  not  kind  to  me,  and  Freddie  Doug- 
lass, the  chief’s  son,  whom  I had  taken  into  my  house  at  the  agency  and 
washed,  and  taught,  and  doctored,  and  nursed,  and  made  healthy,  came  to 
me  in  my  captivity  and  mocked  me  worse  than  all  the  rest  The  Doug- 
lass blood  was  in  him,  and  he  was  bad.  He  said  I was  a bad  squaw  and 
an  old  white  squaw.  He  tried  to  steal  the  old  wildcat  skin  that  I slept 
on,  and  he  stole  my  handkerchief  while  I was  asleep  and  jeered  me  dur- 
ing iny  imprisonment. 

Douglass  returned  from  fighting  the  soldiers  on  Saturday  night.  On 
the  next  day  his  wife  went  back  to  the  agency  for  the  cabbages  raised  by 
the  cultivation  the  Indians  professed  so  much  to  despise.  Douglass  Was 
morose  and  sullen  and  had  little  to  say.  He  did  not  seem  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  military  situation,  but  thought  the  Indians  would  annihilate  the 
soldiers.  Large  numbers  of  head  men  and  captains  came  to  consult 
Douglass.  They  were  in  and  out  most  of  the  night,  making  speeches 
and  discussing  things  in  general,  as  though  the  fate  of  the  universe  de- 
pended on  their  decision.  Douglass  often  asked  us  where  the  agent  was. 
I <aid  that  I did  not  know.  Douglass  rejoined  that  neither  did  he  know. 
Mrs  Douglass  treated  me  spitefully  and  her  chief  was  not  much  better, 
though  he  gave  me  enough  to  eat.  When  he  was  gone  very  little  was 
cooked. 

In  a day  or  two  Johnson  became  very  cross,  and  early  one  morning 
we  began  to  move  again.  It  was  a very  long  ond  terrible  journey  that  I 
made  thatjdav.  I rode  a pony  with  neither  saddle,  nor  bridle,  nor  stirrups. 
There  was  only  a tent  cloth  strap  on  the  horse’s  back  and  an  old  halter 
to  guide  him  with.  It  was  the  most  distressing  experience  of  my  life 
Not  a single  halt  was  made  and  my  pain  was  so  great  that  the  cold  drops 
stood  on  my  forehead  I could  only  cling  to  the  pony  by  riding  astride. 
W « travelled  rapidly  over  mountains  so  steep  that  one  wrould  find  difficulty 
in  walking  over  them  on  foot.  The  dust  was  suffocating,  and  I had 
neither  water  nor  dinner.  Josephine  and  Mrs.  Price  rode  ahead.  One  of 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


m 

the  mountains  was  so  steep  that  after  making  part  of  the  ascent  Douglass' 
party  had  to  turn  back  and  go  around  it.  This  incident  shows  what  hard, 
ships  delicate  women  on  horseback  had  to  endure. 

We  reached  a camping  ground  half  an  hour  after  dark  and  pitched  out 
tents  in  the  valley.  The  moon  was  small.  I was  so  faint  that  I could 
not  get  off  the  horse  nor  move  until  a kind  woman  assisted  me  to  the 
ground.  I was  too  ill  and  exhausted  to  eat  and  I went  to  bed  without 
any  supper.  We  stayed  at  this  place  several  days.  As  the  soldiers  up* 
proached  the  Indians  moved  further  south  at  intervals  of  two  or  three  days, 
until  they  reached  the  pleasant  meadows  on  Plateau  Creek,  below  Grand 
River,  where  General  Adams  found  us.  Before  we  reached  this  last 
plaee  Douglass  permitted  Josephine  to  come  to  see  me  every  day,  and  the 
long  hours  were  more  endurable.  The  courage  of  the  brave  girl  and  her 
words  of  hope  cheered  me  very  much  My  life  would  not  have  been  safe 
had  it  not  been  for  her  influence  with  the  Indians.  She  could  speak  some 
of  their  language,  and  she  made  them  cease  terrifying  me  with  their  horri- 
ble threats  and  indecent  stories.  She  finally  forced  Dougless  to  give  me 
a saddle,  so  that  in  the  last  days  of  journeying  I had  something  besides 
a bareback  horse  to  ride  upon.  It  gave  me  great  joy  on  one  of  the  even- 
ings of  those  terrible  first  days  to  have  her,  as  we  passed  each  other  in 
the  moonlight,  call  out  cheerily : 

“Keep  up  good  courage,  mother;  I am  all  right.  We  shall  not  be 
killed. 

The  last  evenings  of  our  stay  were  devoted  to  songs  and  merrymaking 
by  those  who  were  not  away  on  the  mountains  watching  the  soldiers. 
Mrs.  Price  joined  in  some  of  the  choruses,  because  it  helped  us  and  made 
the  Indians  more  lenient.  They  told  a great  variety  of  stories  and 
cracked  jokes  on  each  other  and  on  the  white  men.  They  had  dances  and 
medicine  festivals.  Notwithstanding  these  hilarities,  however,  the  In- 
dians were  troubled  and  anxious  about  the  troops.  Runners  were  con- 
stantly coming  and  going.  The  least  rumor  or  movement  of  the  soldiers 
threw  the  Indians  into  a flutter.  Chief  Douglass  began  to  realize  the 
peril  of  the  situation.  Colorow  advised  them  to  go  no  further  south, 
though  the  troops  were  moving  down  from  the  north.  Better  fight  and 
defend  their  camps,  he  said,  than  retreat.  Chief  Ouray,  the  friend  of  the 
whites,  did  not  want  the  White  River  Utes  on  his  domain.  Douglass 
spoke  of  the  agency  as  gone  forever.  He  said  it  would  have  to  be  built 
up  again.  The  Indians  had  lost,  all,  and  with  a sigh,  he  exclaimed  : 

“ Douglass  a heap  poor  man  now.” 

When  he  had  time  he  fell  to  abusing  the  agent,  and  said  that  if  he  had 
kept  the  troops  away  there  would  have  been  no  war.  One  day  I was 
told  that  a white  man  named  Washington  would  soon  come.  At  last  an 


30 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER'S 


Uncompahgre  Ute  came  from  Chief  Ouray  and  spoke  very  kindly  to  me, 
and  as  he  sat  by  the  fire,  said  : 

“ To-morrow  five  white  men  coming  and  some  Indians. 

Among  them  would  be  “Chicago  man  Sherman,  a great  big  peace  man.” 
General  Adams  said  they  were  goingto  have  a talk  and  the  captives  would 
go  home.  The  TTncompahgre  said  that  a wagon  would  be  waiting  at  a 
place  below  the  plateau 

Next  day  we  were  washing  at  the  creek,  when  Chief  Johnson  came 
and  said  a big  council  was  to  be  held  and  we  must  not  come  up  to  the 
tents  until  the  end  of  the  meeting.  Dinner  was  sent  to  us  by  the  squaws, 
and  we  began  to  have  hopes  of  releace,  after  being  deluded  with  false 
predictions  many  times  before.  Finally  we  saw  the  foremost  of  the  white 
men  on  the  top  of  the  hill  by  the  tent. 

When  I saw  General  Adams  I could  not  say  a word,  my  emotion  was 
so  great.  We  had  borne  insults  and  threats  of  death,  mockery  and  ridi- 
cule, and  not  one  of  11s  had  shed  a tear,  but  the  sight  of  General  Adams, 
Captain  Cline,  Mr.  Sherman  and  their  men  mas  too  much  for  me.  My 
gratitude  was  greater  than  my  speech.  We  owe  much  to  the  wife  of 
Johnson.  She  is  Ouray’s  sister,  and,  like  him,  she  has  a kind  heart. 
Ouray  had  ordered  us  to  be  well  treated  and  that  we  should  be  allowed 
to  go  home. 

The  council  was  a stormy  one.  Yarious  opinions  prevailed.  The  war 
party  wanted  us  held  until  peace  should  be  made  between  the  Indians 
and  the  Government.  They  wanted  to  set  us  against  the  guilty  murder- 
ers, so  as  to  save  them  through  us.  After  a few  hours  of  violent 
speeches  Mrs.  Johnson  burst  into  the  lodge  in  a magnificent  wrap  and 
demanded  that  the  captives  be  set  free,  war  or  no  war.  Her  brother 
Ouray  had  so  ordered,  and  she  took  the  assembly  by  storm.  She  told 
the  pathetic  story  of  the  captives,  and  advised  the  Indians  to  do  as  Ouray 
requested  and  trust  to  the  mercy  of  the  government.  General  Adams 
said  he  must  have  a decision  at  once  or  he  would  have  to  leave.  That 
settled  it  and  we  were  set  free. 

Next  morning,  wrhen  we  were  about  to  start  for  the  wagon,  which  was 
a day’s  journey  to  the  south,  Chief  Johnson,  who  was  slightly  cool  toward 
us,  threw  out  a poor  saddle  for  me  to  ride  upon.  His  wife  Susan  caught 
sight  of  it  and  was  furious.  She  flung  it  away  and  went  to  a pile  of 
saddles  and  picked  out  the  best  one  in  the  lot.  She  found  a good  blanket 
and  gave  both  to  me.  Then  she  turned  to  her  chief  and.  poured  out  her 
contempt  with  such  effect  that  he  was  glad  to  sneak  away. 

So  long  as  I remember  the  tears  which  this  good  woman  shed  over  the 
children,  the  words  of  sympathy  which  she  gave,  the  kindness  that  she 
continually  showed  to  us,  I shall  never  cease  to  respect  her  and  to  bless 
the  goodness  of  her  heart,  and  Ouray,  the  Spanish-speaking  chief  of  the 
south.  I trust  all  the  go.  d people  will  remember  them. 


Tike  muzzle  of  the  Indian’s  rifle  was  pressed  to  her  forehead^  but  sbe  uared 

him  to  fire. 

Vet  3tti>tanes  fe$te  ifyx  feme  $linte  an  bte  ©dtffife,  aber  fie  fcrberte  t$n  serge* 

bene  auf  gu  fd)tepen» 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


33 


MRS.  PRICE’S  EXPERIENCE. 

My  name  is  Flora  Ellen  Price.  I was  born  in  Adams  county,  trear 
Quincy,  111.,  and  was  married  when  I was  twelve  years  old  to  Mr.  Price. 
I was  married  in  Wyoming,  and  moved  to  Nevada,  where  I saw  much  of 
the  Shoshone  Indians.  I went  from  Nevada  to  Girard,  Kansas,  and 
thence  to  Greeley,  with  my  husband,  and  thence  to  White  River,  where 
be  was  employed  as  a farmer  for  the  agency.  At  first  the  Indians  were 
\ery  kind.  They  came  in  to  see  us,  and  their  squaws  would  pick  up  my 
children  and  make  much  of  them.  With  the  exception  of  Johnson  and 
two  or  three  other  chiefs  they  didn’t  seem  to  be  pleased  with  the  agent. 
The  trouble  grew  out  of  the  ploughing  and  the  various  improvements. 
My  husband  said  the  agency  employes  told  him  that  the  agent  was  shot 
at  by  some  young  Indians  there,  and  the  agent  said  so  himself  when  they 
were  talking  it  over  in  the  room  one  evening.  It  was  the  general  opin- 
ion, also,  that  he  had  been  shot  at  by  the  Indians,  but  he  did  not  want  it 
to  be  known,  on  account  of  his  family  and  because  it  would  worry  his 
wife.  Besides,  he  was  not  entirely  certain  as  to  who  fired  and  for  what 
purpose. 

The  Indians  were  treated  well  as  far  as  I know.  The  ageucy  was  kept 
in  fine  shape.  Many  improvements  were  made.  A good  table  was  set 
for  the  employes  and  they  were  only  charged  $3  50  a week,  which  is 
much  less  than  is  charged  at  the  other  agencies,  where  it  is  $4  and  $5- 
The  best  provisions  were  used  and  bought  at  Rawlins.  Mr.  Meeker  re- 
fused to  have  any  Indian  blankets  or  Indian  goods  in  the  house  so  as  to 
be  free  from  all  irregularities  or  charges  of  corruption.  The  Indians  fre- 
quently ate  at  his  private  table,  and  the  chiefs  came  and  went  as  they 
pleased.  They  were  treated  kindly,  but  not  allowed  to  take  charge  of  the 
p’ace  as  they  sometimes  wanted  to  do. 

The  whole  trouble,  I think,  was  because  the  soldiers  were  coming  in. 
They  got  very  mad,  and  on  Saturday  they  moved  their  tents  across  the 
river  some  distance  and  became  uneasy  and  very  anxious  to  know  when 
the  soldiers  were  coming  to  the  agency.  I -did  not  hear  them  make  any 
threats  against  tho  agent.  Douglass’  boy  shot  himself  accidentally  in  the 
foot  and  Douglass  remained  at  the  river  with  several  other  Indians.  They 
ran  up  American  flags  on  Sunday  morning.  On  that  day  the  Indians 
were  all  around  the  place.  There  were  a good  many  of  Jack’s  band, 
who  seemed  to  be  very  friendly,  but  still  they  were  frightened  a little 
about  the  soldiers  coming  in,  and  on  Sunday  night  all  had  a big  war 
dance  about  a quarter  of  a mile  from  the  agency.  There  were  a good 
3 


34 


BRA\%  MISS  MEEKER'S 


many  present,  including  the  principal  chiefs,  headed  by  Douglass.  Just 
before  daylight  on  Monday  morning  Douglass  got  up  and  made  a big 
speech  to  the  Utes.  The  massacre  followed  on  that  day.  Between  the 
time  of  the  dance  and  the  time  of  the  massacre  I heard  that  Jack  said  he 
would  meet  the  soldiers  and  get  them  in  the  canyon  where  they  would 
fight  Just  before  noon  on  Monday  an  Indian  runner  came  from  where 
the  soldiers  were  on  Milk  Creek,  and  we  supposed  he  brought  news  to 
Douglass  that  they  were  fighting  and  perhaps  had  killed  some  Utes. 

Douglass  and  several  other  Indians  came  in,  and  at  dinner  Douglass 
was  very  familiar,  laughing  and  joking  in  such  a maaner  one  would  not 
iiave  thought  anything  wTas  the  matter  with  him,  though  he  had  previ- 
ously taken  his  little  boy  from  the  school  and  said  the  boy  was  afraid  of 
the  soldiers,  but  that  he  would  bring  him  back  that  evening.  He  picked 
around  the  table,  was  laughing  and  joking  with  Mrs.  Meeker,  Josephine 
and  me.  He  drank  a little  coffee,  and  ate  some  bread  and  butter.  Sud- 
denly he  turned  around  and  went  out  doors.  Mr.  Price  and  Mr.  Thomp- 
son and  Frank  Dresser  were  working  on  the  building  a few  steps  from 
the  house.  I saw  him  there  when  I went  out  after  my  little  girl.  Doug, 
lass  seemed  to  be  in  very  good  spirits  and  was  joking  with  the  men.  I 
had  just  returned  and  began  washing  some  clothes  when  the  Indians 
fired.  I saw,  I should  judge,  about  twenty  Utes  around  the  houses.  The 
firing  party  was  down  at  the  barn,  so  Frank  Dresser  said.  I saw  one 
Ute,  I don’t  know  his  name,  fire  at  Mr.  Price  and  Mr.  Thompson  and 
Frank.  He  was  a White  River  Ute.  I saw  Mr.  Thompson  either  walk- 
ing or  running  with  the  purpose  to  escape  or  because  he  was  shot. 

I rushed  in,  took  my  baby  and  ran  to  my  room.  Frank  Dresser  went 
to  the  boys’  room,  when  he  found  the  Indians  had  stolen  all  their  guns. 
He  ran  in  after  Mr.  Price’s  gun  and  came  out  and  shot  through  the  win- 
dow Chief  Johnson’s  brother,  who  died  two  days  afterward.  We  then 
ran  to  Josephine’s  room.  In  a few  minutes  after  twenty  or  thirty  shots 
crashed  through  our  two  windows,  and  we  crawled  under  the  bed.  The 
Indians  was  shooting  all  around.  I could  bear  reports  of  guns  in  al| 
directions  and  glass  falling  from  windows.  Josephine  said  the  milk  room 
was  the  safest  place,  and  we  ran  there  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  reached 
the  milk  room  just  as  Frank  Dresser  came  in,  and  we  all  sat  there  quietly. 
My  little  bov  was  very  nervous.  May  was  quiet,  and  we  remained  there 
all  the  afternoon  until  nearly  sundown  and  until  they  set  the  building  on 
fire.  The  shooting  had  ceased  and  we  began  to  see  the  smoke  curling 
through  tho  cracks.  I said  : 

‘ Josie,  we  have  to  get  out  of  here  ; you  take  Ma),  I’ll  take  the  baby 
and  we  will  try  to  escape  in  the  sage  brush  across  the  road.” 

She  took  May’s  hand  and  we  went  out,  but  first  went  into  Mr.  Meeker’s 
room.  Tt  was  not  disturbed.  The  doors  were  open  and  the  books  were 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


35 


lying  on  the  stand  as  he  had  left  them.  It  was  at  first  thought  we  had 
better  secrete  ourselves  in  there,  but  I advised  that  we  had  better  try  to 
escape  &hens  as  the  Indians  were  busily  engaged  in  stealing  annuity  goods 
They  had  broken  open  the  warehouse  and  were  packing  blankets  on  their 
pomes  We  started  for  the  gardeu  when  Frank  said : 

'5  Perhaps  we  can  hide  in  the  sage  brush  and  escape. ” 

He  ran  through  tho  gate  in  the  field  with  Mr.  Price’s  rifle  He  was 
near  the  field  when  I last  saw  him,  and  I did  not  suppose  he  was  hurt  at 
all  Mrs.  Meeker  and  I went  inside  the  field  through  the  wire  fence,  and 
the  Indians  saw  us  and  came  toward  us  on  a run,  firiug  as  they  ran. 
Some  were  afoot  and  some  were  on  horseback,  and  they  said  : 
u Good  squaw;  come,  squaw;  no  shoot  squaw.” 

We  then  came  out,  as  it  was  of  no  use  to  run,  and  gave  ourselves  up 
I hesitated  to  go  with  them  at  first,  and  told  them  they  would  burn  me 
Sr  shoot  me,  but  they  said  they  would  not  harm  us,  and  then  came  up  aud 
took  my  hands  and  pulled  me  through  an  irrigating  ditch  Then  they  took 
me  to  the  river  as  fast  as  they  could,  one  on  each  side  of  me,  to  where 
the  horses  were,  and  then  seated  me  on  a pile  of  poles-  I asked  them  if 
I could  go  back  to  the  agency  and  get  my  money  and  clothes,  They  said 
so.  1 told  them  I was  thirsty,  and  a IJte  who  claimed  to  be  an  Uncom- 
pahgre — I don't  know  his  name — caught  me  by  the  shoulder  and  led  me 
down  to  Douglass  Spring,  where  he  dipped  up  a pail  of  water  and  drank 
and  then  gave  it  to  me.  We  then  went  back  and  the  Indian  packed  hi3 
effects  on  a pony  and  spread  a blanket  on  the  saddle  and  told  me  to  mount 
my  horse  My  baby  boy  was  with  me  and  Mary  was  with  Josephine. 
She  had  taken  the  little  girl  from  the  first  and  carried  my  oldest  child, 
Mary,  aii  through  the  captivity.  We  were  iu  three  separate  parties,  but 
all  in  one  company,  not  very  far  apart,  through  the  different  journeys 
1 mounted  the  pony  and  the  Indian  took  a seat  behind  me.  I held  the 
baby  in  front  of  me  and  guided  tbe  animal.  About  eight  or  ten  Indians 
were  in  the  company.  Jim  Johnson,  a White  River  Ute,  rode  out  in  the 
party  with  us  He  did  not  say  anything  to  me  only  that  he  was  going 
to  take  me  to  the  Utes’  squaw  camp,  and  he  said  the  Utes  “ no  hurt  me.”  I 
think  he  had  a little  whiskey  in  him. 

The  road  over  the  large  mountains  was  so  steep  it  was  all  I could  do 
to  sit  on  the  horse.  By  this  time  it  was  quite  dark.  The  Indian  that 
rode  behind  me  pulled  a watch  out  of  his  pocket  and  asked  me  if  I recog- 
nized it.  I told  him  1 thought  I did,  but  could  tell  better  in  the  morning 
He  took  it  from  his  neck  and  put  the  leather  guard  around  my  neck  and 
said  it  was  my  watch,  I have  worn  the  watch  ever  since  It  was  Mr. 
Priee's  and  belonged  to  his  father,  and  was  a family  relic.  Mr.  Post  was 
chief  cleik  at  the  agency  and  had  been  secretary  of  the  Greeley  colony, 
and  was  well  known  in  Yonkers,  N Y.,  where  for  many  years  he  was 


36 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’* 


Pottmastei  and  Town  Clerk  This  Indian  treated  me  tolerably  well  dur- 
ing the  journey. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  camp  that  night  a squaw  came  and  took  mv 
little  boy  from  the  horse  and  cried  over  him  like  a child.  I dismounted 
and  sat  down  in  Pursane’s  camp  I wasn’t  at  all  hungry,  and  when  they 
offered  me  coffee,  cold  meat  and  bread  I could  not  eat.  After  a while 
Pursane’s  squaw  got  over  her  weeping,  when  they  talked  and  laughed. 
All  I could  understand  was  when  they  repeated  the  soldiers’  names  and 
counted  what  number  of  men  they  had  killed  at  the  agency.  They  said 
they  had  killed  nine.  At  first  they  said  ten,  and  I told  them  differently, 
as  I thought  Frank  had  escaped.  They  asked  me  how  many,  and  seemed 
to  accept  my  statement  as  correct. 

They  spread  some  blankets  for  me  to  lie  on,  but  I could  not  sleep. 
The  moon  shone  very  brightly  and  everything  looked  ghastly.  In  the 
morning  I went  to  Pursane’s  tent  and  sat  by  the  fire.  I was  cold,  for  I 
had  nothing  to  wear  except  a calico  dress  and  shoes.  I sat  there  weep- 
ing—I could  Dot  help  it — with  my  little  boy  in  my  arms.  The  squaws 
came  around  and  talked  and  looked  at  me  and  laughed  and  made  fun  of 
me.  I didn’t  understand  what  they  said,  only  occasionally  a word- 
After  a time  some  of  the  men  came  in  and  talked  to  the  squaws  and 
looked  at  me  and  laughed.  The  TJncompaghre  Ute,  in  whose  charge  I 
seemed  to  be,  went  off  after  his  horse,  and  said  at  noon  he  would  be  back. 
He  came  about  half-past  twelve  and  brought  two  horses  with  him  and 
told  me  he  was  going  to  fight  the  soldiers.  He  put  on  his  saddle,  tied 
two  blankets  behind,  put  on  his  cartridge-box,  containing  a good  many 
cartridges,  and  took  his  gnn  and  rode  off.  He  said  he  would  send  a 
squaw  after  me,  and  I should  be  moved  from  that  camp  and  remain  until 
he  returned  from  fighting  the  soldiers.  One  of  the  squaws  brought  a 
blanket  and  gave  it  to  me.  I went  along  with  her,  and  they  told  me 
then  to  go  to  work  and  bake  some  biscuits.  I had  them  build  a fire  and 
bring  water  and  I baked  biscuits,  made  coffee  and  ate  pretty  heartily  my- 
self, the  first  I had  eaten  since  I left  the  agency. 

About  an  hour  after  supper  an  old  squaw  ordered  me  to  go  with  her  to 
another  tent  to  sleep,  so  I went  to  Henry  James’  tent,  where  I sat  down. 
They  had  no  fire  kut  soon  made  one,  and  the  squaws  crowded  around. 
Henry  asked  me  a few  questions.  He  said  he  felt  very  bad  for  me.  He 
said  he  told  the  TJtes  not  to  murder  the  people  at  the  agency.  He  had 
been  assisting  the  issuing  clerk  and  acted  as  interpreter.  He  said  they 
were  friendly  and  be  liked  them  very  much.  He  said  the  TJtes  told  him 
he  was  nothing  but  a little  boy  for  refusing  to  kill  the  white  men  at  the 
agency,  but  when  they  called  him  a boy  he  said  it  was  too  much  for  him. 
He  had  no  more  to  say  after  that.  He  asked  me  if  I was  going  to  stay 
all  night  in  his  tent.  X said  the  squaw  had  brought  me  over  there  to 


AOCUL'NT  OF  I Ai.L. 


37 


sleep  He  said,  “All  right;  you  siay  here  all  night.”  So  his  squaw 
made  me  a very  nice  bed  of  about  ten  blankets.  1 went  to  bed  and  she 
tucked  me  in  quite  nicely.  I slept  well,  got  up,  washed  myself,  combed 
my  hair  aud  felt  pretty  well.  Henry’s  squaw  cooked  breakfast  She 
made  bread  and  prepared  some  coffee  and  fried  venison  and  there  was  an- 
other squaw  who  brought  in  some  fried  potatoes. 

I ate  breakfast  with  my  little  boy  in  my  arms,  and  presently  Chief 
Johnson  came  in,  looking  very  angry  and  troubled.  He  said  gruffly, 
“Hallo,  womanl”  and  shook  hands.  He  sat  down  and  presently  three 
more  TJtes  came  in.  Johnson  got  out  his  pipe  and  they  all  had  a smoke 
around,  and  they  talked  about  the  soldiers  and  their  big  battle. 

Henry  said  to  me,  “You  go  now  with  Johnson  to  see  your  little  girl, 
who  is  with  Josephine.”  So  I mounted  the  horse  behind  Chief  Johnson 
and  rode  about  five  miles,  and  when  I came  up  to  Douglass’  camp,  I first 
saw  Mrs.  Meeker,  and  I went  up  to  her,  shook  hands  and  kissed  her  and 
felt  very  badly  for  her.  She  said: 

“Don’t  make  any  fuss.” 

Josephine  and  my  little  girl  had  been  to  a brook  to  get  a drink.  We 
sat  down  and  had  a nice  talk  until  the  squaws  came  and  told  me  I must 
go  to  Johnson’s  tent  and  the  little  girl  to  Pursane’s.  Miss  Josie  weut 
down  to  Johnson’s  tent,  where  they  put  down  Mrs.  Meeker’s  comforter 
k r me  to  sit  on,  and  asked  if  I was  hungry.  I told  them  yes,  and  they 
^«nt  to  work  and  cooked  some  dinner  for  me. 

The  next  day  we  moved  from  that  place  to  another  camp.  It  was  a 
very  nice  place,  with  grass  two  feet  high,  a nice  brook  of  clear,  cool  water 
flowing  through  it.  The  Indians  had  killed  many  soldiers  and  were 
|>rancing  around  in  their  coats  and  hats,  putting  on  airs  and  imitating 
soldiers  and  making  fun  of  them  while  going  through  a burlesque  drill 
a.ad  making  believe  they  were  the  greatest  warriors  in  the  West  They 
took  a great  fancy  to  my  little  child  and  wanted  to  keep  him.  They  crept 
into  the  tent  after  him,  and  when  they  found  they  could  not  steal  him 
$hey  offered  three  ponies  for  him.  In  the  afternoon,  about  2 o’clock,  they 
cut  a lot  of  sage  brush,  piled  it  up  aud  spread  over  it  the  clothes  they  had 
stolen  from  the  soldiers.  Four  of  the  Indians  then  began  to  dance 
abound  them  and  at  intervals  fell  on  their  knees  before  tnem  and  thrust 
their  knives  into  them  and  went  through  a mimic  massacre  of  soldiers- 
Other  TJtes  kept  joining  the  party  that  was  dancing  until  a ring  was  made 
as  big  as  a good  sized  house.  They  would  first  run  away,  then  turn  and 
dance  back  the  other  way,  yelling  and  holloing  like  frescoed  devils. 
They  had  war  suits,  fur  caps  with  eagle  feathers,  and  th»*v  1“  l:c  1 
,s*rnngcly  hideous.  They  wanted  Miss  Josie  and  me  to  dance  with  them. 
We  told  them  we  could  not,  “We  no  sabe  dance.” 

That  afternoon  Miss  Meeker  came  over  and  we  had  an  old-fashioned 


38 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER'S 


talk.  She  told  us  her  troubles.  They  had  threatened  to  stab  her  with 
knives,  she  said.  Charley,  Chief  Douglass7  son-in-law,  soon  came  aroui.  l 
lin  a very  bad  humor,  and  as  he  could  speak  good  English  we  didn’t  dare 
to  talk  much  after  he  appeared.  Mrs.  Meeker  said  she  felt  a&  though  one 
might  be  killed  any  night;  that  they  treated  her  very  meanly.  Jose- 
phine seemed  downhearted,  though  she  was  plucky.  I tried  to  cheer  her 
all  I could.  The  Indians  would  not  let  us  go  alone  any  distance  from  the 
camp.  They  asked  me  if  I had  any  money,  and  I told  them  I did  not,  as 
it  was  all  burned.  We  asked  them  where  the  soldiers  were,  and  they 
said  they  were  down  in  that  cellar,  meaning  the  great  canyon,  where  they 
had  them  hemmed  in.  They  said  the  Indians  would  lay  around  on  the 
mountains  and  kill  the  soldiers7  horses.  The  soldiers  would  not  appear 
at  all  in  the  day  time.  At  night  they  would  slip  out,  only  to  be  shot  by 
the  Indians.  They  threatened  if  I attempted  to  run  away  they  w ould 
shoot  me.  Johnson  put  a gun  to  my  forehead  and  told  me  he  would  kill 
me.  I said : 

“ Shoot  away.  I don’t  care  if  I die  ; shoot  if  you  want  to.” 

He  laughed  then,  and  would  say  : 

11  Brave  squaw,  good  squaw;  no  scare.77 

They  also  said  Josephine  would  very  soon  die,  as  she  drank  no  coffee 
and  ate  very  little.  I told  them  it  was  the  same  at  the  agency,  tLat  she 
ate  little  and  drank  no  coffee.  They  talked  it  over  among  themselves  and 
said  no  more  about  it.  They  made  fun  of  Mrs.  Meeker,  and  said  maybe 
the  TTtes  will  kill  her.  I said  to  them  : No,  don’t  you  kill  my  mother;  I 
heap  like  her.”  “All  right,77  they  would  say.  « Pretty  good  mother; 
pretty  good  mother.77  Coho  pointed  his  gun  at  me  and  threatened  to  kill 
me  many  times. 

The  Indians  held  considerable  conversation  with  each  other  in  regard 
to  the  massacre  and  tried  to  get  information  from  us.  They  told  various 
stories  how  the  fight  occurred  and  who  were  concerned  in  it.  From  all 
that  I heard  of  their  talk  I think  Antelope  or  Panvits  shot  the  agent. 
Chief  Johnson  said  he  shot  Thornburgh  in  the  forehead  three  times  with 
his  pistol,  and  then  got  off  his  pony  and  he  went  to  him  and  pounded 
him  in  the  head  and  smashed  his  skull  all  in,  then  took  some  of  his  clothes 
off,  but  I did  not  see  any  of  them  worn  in  camp.  The  Indians  Ebenezer, 
Douglass,  Pursane,  Tim  Johnson  and  Charley  Johnson  were  at  the 
agency  massacre.v  Jack  was  not  there.  He  was  fighting  the  soldiers. 
Johnson’s  brother  Jata  was  killed  by  Frank  Dresser.  Washington  was 
on  the  ground.  They  all  had  guns  and  helped  to  shoot.  Josephine  said 
she  saw  an  Indian  named  Creep  there.  I did  not  see  any  of  the  bodies 
at  the  agency.  I only  heard  the  firing  and  saw  the  Indians  shooting 
toward  the  buildings  where  the  men  were  working. 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL 


39 


The  TJtes  said  they  were  going  to  kill  all  the  soldiers,  and  that  the 
women  should  always  live  in  the  TJtes’  camp,  excepting  Mrs.  Meeker. 
Douglass  said  she  could  go  home  by  and  by,  when  she  would  perhaps  see 
Frank  Dresser,  who,  the  Indians  thought,  had  escaped.  They  made  me 
do  more  drudgery  than  they  did  Josephine.  They  made  her  cook  and 
made  me  carry  water.  They  told  me  to  saddle  the  pony,  and. I told  them 
I didn’t  know  how.  One  day  we  left  camp  about  three  o’clock  in  the 
morning.  We  had  no  breakfast,  only  Josephine  and  1 had  roasted  some 
meat  on  the  coals  in  the  morning,  and  we  rode  all  day  in  the  thick  dust 
without  water.  We  reached  Grand  River  about  sundown,  where  we 
camped  in  the  sage  brush.  To  the  south  the  mountains  were  very  high 
and  the  country  was  bleak  and  bare  on  the  north.  The  Indians  said  they 
were  going  to  take  us  to  the  agency.  The  next  morning  we  went  five  or 
six  miles  and  camped  in  a grassy  place  where  the  horses  could  get  plenty 
to  eat,  amd  remained  there  two  days.  We  were  camped  very  near  a large 
mountain. 

Johnson  had  field  glasses  and  all  day  with  his  field  glass  he  was  watch- 
ing  the  soldiers,  and  would  only  come  down  to  his  supper.  The  Indians 
took  turns  watching  during  the  night,  and  during  the  day  they  covered  the 
hills  and  watched  the  soldiers  through  their  glasses.  Runners  came  in  with 
foaming  steeds  constantly.  At  last  news  was  received  that  the  soldiers 
were  on  the  White  River,  moving  south.  At  this  Johnson  was  very 
angry.  In  the  morning  the  ponies  were  uneasy,  and  they  could  not  catch 
them.  Johnson’s  young  squaw  did  not  get  around  to  suit  him,  so  he  took 
a black  snake  whip,  caught  her  by  the  hair  and  gave  ber  a severe  whip- 
ping. She  cried  and  screamed.  He  then  went  to  help  his  other  squaw, 
Susan,  Chief^Ouray’s  sister,  pack  up.  They  put  us  on  one  horse  and 
strapped  my  little  girl  in  a basket  behind  Josephine.  I had  my  baby  in 
front  of  me.  Johnson  was  very  mad  and  pointed  his  gun  at  each  of  us. 
I told  him  to  shoot  away,  and  asked  him  to  shoot  me  in  the  forehead 
He  said : 

“No  good  squaw;  no  scare.” 

We  started  for  another  camping  place  south  of  the  Grand  River. 

At  last,  one  evening,  we  heard  that  white  men  were  coming  from  the 
Uncompahgre  agency  for  Chief  Ouray  to  treat  for  our  release.  The  next 
day  the  men  came,  and  I told  Johnson’s  squaw  that  we  wanted  to  wash 
some  clothes.  She  gave  us  some  matches  and  a couple  of  kettles,  and  I 
went  to  the  creek  to  wash  While  I was  thero  Jim  Johnson  came  with 
a couple  of  shirts  for  me  to  cleanse.  He  then  went  away,  but  soon  came 
back  again  and  said  to  me ; 

“ Don’t  you  come  to  camp,  for  we  are  going  to  have  a big  talk  with  the 
TJtes  Don’t  come  until  Cooz  comes  down  after  you  ” Cooz  is  his  young 
squaw  Mrs  Meeker  and  I remained  there  in  the  brush  all  day,  and 


40 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


dinner  was  sent  to  us  by  the  squaws.  Mrs.  Meeker  felt  very  much  re- 
vived. You  would  not  have  thought  she  was  the  same  woman.  Captain 
Cline  saw  me  in  the  brush  and  I held  up  my  hands.  He  seemed  to  be 
looking  at  me,  but  presently  he  turned  away  and  asked  if  the  Indians 
were  watching  him.  He  did  not  let  them  know  he  saw  me.  Presen /lv 
a TJte  came  down  and  said  to  Mrs.  Meeker,  “ Come,  mother;  white  man 
saw.”  So  I took  the  clothes  whi'eh  I had  washed  under  my  arm  and  we 
walked  joyfully  to  the  tent.  There  we  met  General  Adams,  Captain 
Cline,  Mr.  Sherman,  the  Los  Pinos  Agency  clerk,  and  their  party.  Tin  y 
spoke  to  Mrs.  Meeker  first  and  said,  “ How  do  you  do  ?”  with  a deep  and 
pathetic  emphasis.  They  then  shook  hands  with  us  Until  our  hearts 
burned.  One  of  the  men  said,  “ Can  you  give  me  a description  of  your 
captivity  ?”  and  we  sat  down  and  had  a talk.  The  TJtes  all  laughed  at 
us.  We  did  not  have  but  a few  minutes’  conversation,  for  fear  it  would 
not  be  good  for  us.  Mrs.  Meeker  was  talking  with  General  Adams  He 
said  she  looked  as  if  she  was  starved.  He  gave  her  a piece  of  cracker 
and  some  oysters.  The  Indians  had  already  opened  the  cans,  but  not 
knowing  what  they  were  they  looked  on  with  surprise,  but  they  ato  all 
the  canned  fruit  and  got  away  with  some  blankets. 

In  regard  to  my  days  of  captivity  I can  only  say  the  Indians  were  at 
times  lively  and  joked  with  us,  so  that  I was  forced  to  laugh  a good  many 
times  at  their  strange  humor  when  I did  not  feel  like  it.  It  seemed  to 
please  them  very  much.  They  would  say,  “ Wano  momet&>}  (good  woman). 
When  Josephine  came  in  they  would  say  she  was  cross.  She  was  very 
much  grieved,  and  when  her  blood  was  up  she  talked  to  them  in  a lively 
strain  and  made  them  treat  Mrs.  Meeker  better  After  Johnson  and  Mrs. 
Meeker  had  talked  together  about  the  agent  Mrs.  Meeker  came  to  John- 
son’s to  stay.  He  treated  her  with  great  care.  Previously  she  was  not 
welcomed.  The  meanest  thing  they  did  to  the  poor  little  woman  was  to 
frighten  her  with  their  .knives  and  horrible  grimaces  and  bad  stories. 
They  tried  to  scare  us  all.  out  of  our  wits. 

I think  Douglass  is  the  worst  of  the  Indians.  Jack  is  pretty  mean 
also— mean  enough  for  any  purpose,  no  matter  how  bad.  Johnson  is  the 
best.  Johnson’s  wife  was  very  kind.  She  treated  me  just  like  a mother, 
though  sometimes  when  tired  she  w.ould  order  me  to  get  water.  She 
treated  my  little  girl  very  kindly,  made'moccasins  for  her,  and  she  grieved 
over  her  and  my  boy  as  if  they  were  her  own.  She  said  the  TJtes  had 
killed  the  child’s  -papa ; “ TJtes  no  good.”  She  was  for  peace.  She  was 
Chief  Ouray’s  sister,  and. Ouray  was  friendly  to  the  whites  and  had  sent 
messages  to  her  to  see  that  the  whites  were  not  abused  and  should  be  re-, 
sooa. 


Chief  Ouray,  “The  white  man’s  friend.” 
Jpauutling  Durag,  ter  greunt)  tes  n?et§cn  Cannes. 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


43 


The  Indians  laid  all  blame  on  Mr.  Meeker.  Thev  said  he  brought  the 
soldiers  in  and  would  have  Juck,  Panvits  ai.d  Douglass  and  oiher 
chiefs,  including  Johnson,  taken  up  for  stealing  and  put  in  the  calaboose. 
They  said  Meeker  made  great  pictures  of  his  being  shot  and  had  sent 
them  to  Washington.  The  Indians  said  they  afterward  found  these  pic- 
tures on  Thornburgh’s  body ; that  they  had  been  sent  by  Meeker  so  as 
to  inflame  the  soldiers,  as  the  pictures  represented  the  treatment  the 
agency  employes  would  receive  from  the  Indians,  and  the  soldiers  must 
come  to  prevent  it. 

After  we  were  released  we  stopped  all  night  at  Johnson’s  camp,  and 
started  early  the  next  morning.  Our  ponies  for  the  wagons  had  been 
left  at  the  end  of  the  road,  about  forty  miles  south  toward  the  Uncom- 
paghre  River.  General  Adams  bad  left  us  and  gone  to  see  the  soldiers, 
so  Captain  Cline  was  in  charge  of  the  party  and  our  escort  to  the  wagons 
on  our  way  back.  The  Indian  escort,  which  had  accompanied  us  for  a 
lime,  left  us,  and  Captain  Cline  grew  suspicious.  He  was  an  old  pioneer, 
had  served  in  the  army,  and  had  fought  the  Indians  in  New  Mexico  aud 
travelled  over  the  Western  country  so  much  that,  although  a great  frieud 
of  Ouray  and  his  Indians,  still  he  was  suspicious  of  these  savages  and 
thought  that,  while  the  escort  had  been  with  the  White  River  Indians, 
they  had  been  corrupted.  So  when  he  saw  that  they  had  left  us  he  put 
spurs  to  his  horse  and  rushed  on  ahead  of  the  party  to  where  the  wagons 
were.  He  was  afraid  that  they  would  cut  the  harness  to  pieces,  or  do 
some  mischief  to  prevent  the  captives  from  leaving  immediately.  This 
would  keep  them  in  the  neighborhood,  so  that  in  case  General  Adams 
failed  in  stoppiug  hostilities  by  a general  powwow  they  could  recapture 
us  and  hold  us  as  hostages  for  a further  treaty. 

Captain  Cline  reached  the  w'agons  in  a short  time  and,  os  he  suspected^ 
found  the  Indians  seated  around  the  w'agons  in  a body  with  most  of  the 
blankets  lying  on  the  ground  already  divided  among  them.  They  had 
also  got  hold  of  the  boxes  of  provisions  and  canned  fruit  which  General 
Adams  had  brought  from  Los  Pinos  for  us.  They  had  burst  them  opui 
and  were  eating  the  contents.  Captain  Cline  is  personally  acquainted 
with  many  of  the  Indians,  and  he  completely  astonished  them.  Jumping 
off  his  horse  he  threw  down  the  reins  and,  rushing  forward  in  great 
anger,  he  shouted : 

“ Chief  Ouray  shall  hear  of  this,  and  will  settle  with  you!” 

The  Captain  then  picked  up  an  axe  aud  began  to  split  kindling  wood 
to  prepare  for  the  captives.  His  object  was  to  keep  the  axe  in  his  hand 
and  be  master  of  the  situation  until  the  main  party  should  arrive.  He 
feared  treachery,  aud,  putting  on  a bold  front,  he  mace  it  pretty  lively  Jor 
tho  Indians.  They  fell  back,  got  off  the  blankets  and  cave  nn  th**  r m n d 
fruit.  Captain  Cline  threw  the  blankets  on  the  wagon  wiih  whaL  caum-d 


44 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


provisions  there  were  left.  Shortly  after  this  occurrence  we  arrived  with 
Major  Sherman.  We  then  travelled  on  to  Chief  Ouray’s  house. 

Captain  Cline  was  met  by  Ouray  a the  gate.  The  good  chief  looked 
••at  him  a moment  and  said  : 

“ Captain,  tell  me  how  you  found  things  when  you  reached  the  wa- 
gons.” 

The  Captain  was  surprised,  but  narrated  the  facts  as  I have  stated. 
Ouray  listened  a moment  and  grimly  smiling,  said : 

“ Yes,  you  reached  the  wagons  at  such  a time  and  you  found  TJtes 
around  the  wngons  eating  fruit.  I knew  all  about  it;  Ouray  not  a fool; 
I had  good  and  true  Indians  in  the  mountains  around  the  wagons.  They 
look  down  and  see  bad  Indians,  and  then  when  wagons  start  safely  the 
good  Indians  run  back  to  Ouray  on  fast  horses  and  tell  Ouray,  and  Ouray 
make  np  his  mind  about  it.  Bad  TJte  can’t  fool  Ouray.” 

The  chief  said  this  is  broken  English  to  the  Captain,  but  when  he  spoke 
to  Mr.  Pollock  he  conversed  in  eloquent  and  melodious  Spanish,  for  he 
had  been  educated  among  the  Spanish  Mexicans  of  Texas,  down  on  the 
border,  and  his  words  are  always  delivered  with  great  fluency. 

We  were  well  treated  at  Ouray’s  house.  It  had  Brussels  carpets,  win- 
dow curtains,  stoves,  good  beds,  glass  windows,  spittoons,  rocking  chairs, 
camp  stools,  mirrors  and  an  elegantly  carved  bureau.  We  were  received 
as  old  and  long  lost  friends.  Mrs.  Ouray  wept  for  our  hardships,  and 
her  motherly  face,  dusky  but  beautiful  with  sweetness  and  compassion, 
was  wet  with  tears.  We  left  her  crying.  From  this  point  wre  took  the 
United  States  mail  coaches,  with  fleet  horses  and  expert  drivers.  Ti  e 
journey,  over  lofty  mountains  for  three  days  and  one  night,  brought  us 
out  of  the  San  Juan  country  to  the  swiftly  flowing  Rio  Grande.  T lie 
Indian  reservation  was  seventy  miles  behind  us.  Two  ranges  of  moun- 
tains lay  between  us  and  that  land  of  captivity  and  terror.  We  could 
not  forget  the  noble  Ouray  and  our  true  friends  w'ho  lived  there,  yet  it 
made  our  tired  hearts  beat  rapturously  when  we  saw  the  steam  cars  at 
Alamosa. 


MURDEROUS  DOUGLASS. 

Edward  Clark,  who  was  employed  at  the  White  River  agency,  says 
that  Chief  Douglass,  the  plotter  of  the  Meeker  massacre,  was  concerned 
in  the  horrible  Mountain  Meadows  massacre,  where  so  many  innocent 
women  and  children  w7ere  butchered  by  Mormons  and  Indians-  Clark 
says  that  one  day  this  summer  Douglass  and  another  Chief  quarrelled. 
The  chief,  in  his  anger,  said  that  he  could  ruin  Douglass  if  he  told  the 
truth  about  him  ; thot  he  was  a bad  mau,  and  had  participated  iu  the 
crime  at  ihe  Mountain  Meadows. 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


41 


DEFENDING  HIE  FATHER’S  MEMORY. 

Josephine  Meeker  says  : 

The  itatement  persistently  published  broadcast  that  my  father  ploughed 
Indians’  ground  for  his  own  purposea  is  absolutely  and  unqualifiedly  lalse. 
It  was  ploughed  for  Indian  crops  aloue  at  the  request  of  the  government 
It  was  new  laud,  which  had  never  been  occupied  by  the  Indians.  The 
agency  had  just  been  moved  twenty  miles  to  this  unclaimed  spot.  Besides,, 
just  before  the  massacre  the  Indian  Council  had  decided  that  the  plough- 
ing should  go  on,  and  Douglass  and  Jack  agreed  to  this  decision.  The 
Indians  helped  to  plough.  The  agency  garden  was  small  and  situated 
across  the  road,  nowhere  near  the  ploughed  tract. 

JOSEPHINE  MEEKER. 

BRAVE  FRANK  DRES81B’g  DEATH. 

Adams  Is  now  more  generally  sustained  by  Colorado  sentiment  The- 
reports  that  Harry  Dresser  was  found  dead  in  a coal  mine,  nine  miles 
from  the  agency,  is  untrue.  He  and  Eaton  were  the  first  persons  shot  at 
the  agency.  Frank  Dresser,  Harry’s  brother,  who  was  wounded  in  the 
foot,  shot  an  Indian,  Johnson’s  brother,  and  then  rushed  into  the  milk 
house,  staying  with  the  women  until  the  place  was  fired.  All  then  ran 
for  the  sage  brush.  The  women  were  captured,  but  Frank  escaped  at 
night.  He  slipped  out  of  the  sage  brush,  taking  with  him  his  brother 
Harris  coat,  vest  and  shoes,  as  he  was  barefooted  and  coatless.  The 
coat  contained  a message  from  the  agent  to  the  commandant  of  the  troops 
and  a diary  of  Harry’s  life.  Hence  the  false  report.  Frank  then  travelled 
nine  miles  to  the  coal  mine.  The  wound  in  his  leg  was  painful  and  he 
saw  that  he  could  not  reach  the  soldiers,  surrounded  as  they  were  by 
howling  Indians.  Even  if  be  reached  them  the  soldiers  would  be  likely  to 
shoot  him,  mistaking  him  for  an  Indian.  So  Dresser  crawled  into  the 
coal  mine,  lay  down,  folded  and  placed  the  coat  neatly  under  his  head, 
put  the  muzzle  of  his  gun  to  his  head  and  his  toe  to  the  trigger,  and  blew 
out  his  brains  to  escape  further  pain.  In  this  position  the  body  was  found 
by  the  soldiers.  Josephine  and  General  Adams  explained  the  rest.  They 
knew  the  peculiar  gun  used  by  Frank,  as  well  as  that  Harry  Dresser  was 
killed  at  the  agency,  and  that  Frank  had  escaped.  The  Indians  constantly 
lamented  to  Josephine  the  escape  of  one  white  man. 


46 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER'S 


THE  SCOUT’S  RIDE. 

In  times  gone  by  when  Kit  Karson  and  the  frontiersmen  of  the  Far 
West  were  having  their  wild  combats  with  the  red  savages  of  the  plains, 
there  used  to  be  the  most  blood  curdling  stories  written  about  their  deeds 
of  daring,  and  heroism,  and  snfferings,  in  their  constant  encounters  with 

the  Indians. 

Many  of  these  were  pure  fiction,  with  no  other  basement  than  the 
imagination  of  the  novelist.  And  travelling  by  the  general  public  being 
a thing  unheard  of,  there  was  a dense  vail  of  mystery  constantly  envelop- 
ing tho  whole  subject,  that  lent  an  air  of  intense  romance  to  all  occur- 
rences. 

The  Indian  of  to-day  is  a far  different  creature  than  then.  Then  he 
Was  armed  only  with  his  bow  and  arrow,  now  he  is  armed  with  the  most 
approved  United  States  rifles,  for  which  he  can  buy  the  best  United  States 
cartridges.  Then  he  rode  his  wi’d  pony  with  a deer  skin  halter  and  bare 
backed,  now  he  uses  the  white  man’s  improved  bit  and  bridle  and  saddle. 
Even  his  costume,  and  that  of  his  squaw  and  children  have  lost  their 
aboriginality,  and  have  become  a conglomerate  of  feathers  and  plug  hat, 
soldier  coat  and  blanket,  pantaloons  and  fringe,  and  boots  and  moccasins 
indifferently. 

In  those  former  times  it  was  comparative  easy  thing  for  one  white  man 
armed  with  a rifle  and  revolver  to  whip  and  drive  off,  or  even  capture  ten 
or  a dozen  savages.  But  now  the  bravest  of  our  borderers  can  only  handle 
them  man  for  man,  and  even  then  the  result  is  dubious.  So  that  we 
hazard  no  mistake  in  the  assertion  that  the  deeds  of  daring  like  Custer’s, 
and  Merritt’s,  and  brave  companions  that  cut  their  way  through  to  the 
relief  of  the  latter,  really  excel  those  of  the  former  Indian  fighters. 

In  our  sorrow  for  the  indignities  and  cruelties  heaped  upon  the  refined 
ladies  of  Mr.  Meeker’s  household,  let  us  not,  however,  like  the  Indians 
themselves  visit  anger  and  punishment  indiscriminately  on  the  latter  as  a 
people. 

Where  among  all  our  civilized  selves  can  we  find  a woman  who,  under 
the  same  circumstances,  would  have  shown  such  a noble,  tender,  Christian 
disposition  and  heart  as  Susan,  the  “ good  squaw,”  the  sister  of  Ouray 
Where  a nobler  man  than  Chief  Ouray  himself.  To  these  two  the  cap- 
tives undoubtedly  owe  their  lives.  Let  us  therefore  in  visiting  condign 
punishment  on  the  guilty  savages,  not  only  spare  but  reward  those  who 
are  so  deserving. 


i 


l 

i 


■ 


. 


BKAYE  JOSEPHINE 

YJn  her  return  from  captivity,  Josie  wore  a skirt  made  of  the  Indian 
«j»nket,  abroad  leather  belt,  a Dright  colored  handkerchief  ’round  her  neck, 
ttd  the  wide  Mexican  hat  given  her  by  the  chief  She  looked  just  lovety, 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


49 


WHAT  GENERAL  SHERMAN  SAYS. 

That  our  readers  may  have  the  exact  truth  of  this  horrible  massacre, 
and  to  show  that  the  headmen  of  the  Utes  were  to  blame  entirely,  and 
that  Agent  Meeker  was  a noble  Christian  man,  we  give  extracts  from 
General  Sherman’s  official  report. 

Gradually  they  have  been  surrounded  by  white  settlers  and  broken  up 
into  many  distinct  bands,  the  four  principal  of  which  are  as  follows: 
“The  Uintahs,”  in  Northeast  Utah,  estimated  at  430  souls;  the  Los 
Pim-s,”  in  the  TJ ncompahagre  Valley,  Col.,  estimated  at  2,000  souls  ; the 
“ Southern  Utes,”  in  Southwest  Colorado,  with  930  souls,  and  the  White 
River  Utes,”  in  Northwest  Colorado,  estimated  at  800  souls.  To  such 
as  desire  to  study  the  nature  of  recent  evils  in  that  quarter  I refer  the  re- 
ports of  the  agents  of  these  separate  bands.  Suffice  it  now  for  me  to  sav 
that  these  Indians  are  of  the  worst  class,  and  occupy  the  roughest  part  of 
our  country  for  farming,  grazing  or  for  military  operations.  Their  man- 
agement is  complicated  by  the  fact  that  their  country  is  known  to  possess 
mineral  deposits  which  attract  a bold  and  adventurous  class  of  white  men. 
They  are  very  warlike,  and  have  no  difficulty  in  procuring  in  exchange 
for  their  deer  skins,  horses  and  sheep  any  amount  of  the  best  rifles  and 
ammunition.  In  former  years  they  used,  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
to  hunt  buffalo,  but  of  late  years  they  have  confined  their  hunting  to  the 
b^ar,  elk  and  dear  of  the  mountain  region.  As  long  as  game  lasts  they 
will  not  work  or  attempt  farming  except  in  the  smallest  and  most  ridicu- 
lous way,  and  that  only  by  compulsion. 

The  orders  to  Major  Thornburgh,  commanding  Fort  Steele,  were  made 
by  General  Crook,  based  on  indorsements  from  army  headquarters,  and 
were  dated  September  16,  1819,  to  move  with  a sufficient  number  of 
troops  to  the  White  River  Ute  Agency,  Colorado.  Under  special  in- 
structions Major  Thornburgh  moved  from  Fort  Steele  September  21, 
1879,  with  the  effective  strength  of  three  companies  of  cavalry  and  one  of 
infantry,  about  two  hundred  men,  with  rations  for  thirty  days  and  forage 
for  fifty  days,  a force  which  was  considered  by  everybody  as  sufficient -for 
the  purpose.  Mr.  Meeker  had  only  asked  for  100  men.  Major  Thorn- 
burgh reported  back  from  a camp  on  Bear  River,  under  date  of  Septen  - 
ber  26,  that  he  had  met  some  Ute  chiefs,  who  had  seemed  friendly  and 
promised  to  go  writh  him  to  the  agency.  They  said  they  did  not  under- 
stand why  we  had  come,  and  he  did  not  anticipate  trouble. 

With  knowledge  now  of  the  result  and  to  throw  as  much  light  on  the 
immediate  cause  of  this  war  as  possible  I give  the  last  letters  which 
passed  between  Major  Thornburgh  and  Mr.  Meeker,  and  I will  here 


50 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


r cord  my  judgment  that  Major  Thornburgh  was  an  officer  and  gentle- 
man of  whom  the  army  has  reason  to  be  proud.  He  was  young,  ardent, 
ambitious,  of  good  judgment,  and  no  man  could  have  don©  better  in  life 
nor  met  death  with  more  heroism. 

THORNBURGH  TO  MEEKER. 

Headquarters  White  River  Expedition, 

Camp  on  Fortification  Creek,  Sept.  25,  1873. 
Mr.  Meeker,  Indian  Agent,  White  River  Agency,  Col.: 

Sir — In  obedience  to  instructions  from  the  General  of  the  Army,  I am 
en  route  to  your  agency,  and  expect  to  arrive  there  on  the  29th  inst.,  for 
the  purpose  of  affording  you  any  assistance  in  my  power,  and  to  make  ar- 
rests at  your  suggestion,  and  to  hold  as  prisoners  such  of  your  Indians  as 
you  desire  until  investigations  are  made  by  your  department.  I have 
h‘*ard  nothing  definite  from  your  agency  for  ten  days  and  do  not  know 
what  state  of  affairs  exist : whether  the  Indians  will  leave  at  my  approach 
or  show  hostilities.  I send  this  letter  by  Mr.  Lowry,  one  of  my  guides, 
and  desire  you  to  communicate  with  me  as  soon  as  possible,  givingme  all 
the  information  in  your  power,  in  order  that  I may  know  what  course  I 
am  to  pursue.  If  practicable  meet  me  on  the  road  at  the  earliest  moment. 

Yery  respectfully  your  obedient  servant, 

T.  T.  Thornburgh. 

agent  meeker’s  reply. 

To  this  Agent  Meeker  replies,  under  date  of  September  27,  1879,  as 

follows: 

Sir— Understanding  that  you  are  on  the  way  thither  with  United 
States  troops  I send  a messenger,  Mr.  Eskridge,  and  two  Indians,  Henry 
(interpreter)  and  John  Ayersley,  to  inform  you  that  the  Indians  are 
greatly  excited  and  wish  you  to  stop  at  some  convenient  camping  place, 
and  then  that  you  and  five  soldiers  of  your  command  come  into  the 
agency,  when  a talk  and  a better  understanding  can  be  had.  This  I 
agree  to.  I do  not  propose  to  order  your  movement,  but  it  seems  for  the 
best.  The  Indians  seem  to  consider  the  advance  of  the  troops  as  a de- 
claration of  real  war.  In  this  I am  laboring  to  undeceive  them,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  convince  them  they  cannot  do  whatever  they  please. 
The  first  object  now  is  to  allay  apprehensions. 

Respectfully, 

N.  C.  Meeker,  Indian  Agent. 

THORNBURGH  TO  MEEKER. 

Under  date  of  September  28,  1879,  Major  Thornburgh  writes  to  Agent 

Meeker  as  follows : 

Sir — -I  shall  move  with  my  entire  command  to  some  government  camp 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL. 


51 


near  and  within  striking  distance  of  your  agency,  reaching  such  point 
during  the  29th.  I shall  then  halt  and  encamp  the  troops  and  proceed  to 
the  agency  with  my  guide  and  five  soldiers,  as  communicated  in  my  let- 
ter of  the  27th  inst.  Then  and  there  I,  will  be  ready  to  hare  a confer- 
ence with  you  end  the  Indians  so  that  an  understanding  may  be  arrived 
at  and  my  course  of  action  determined.  I have  carefully  considered 
whether  or  not  it  would  be  advisable  to  have  my  command  at  a point  as 
distant  as  thst  desired  by  the  Indians  who  were  in  my  camp  last  night, 
and  have  reached  the  conclusion  that  under  my  orders,  which  require  me 
to  march  my  command  to  the  agency,  I am  not  at  liberty  to  leave  it  at  a 
point  where  it  would  not  be  available  in  case  of  trouble.  You  are  au- 
thorized to  say  for  me  to  the  Indians  that  my  course  of  conduct  is  entirely 
dependent  on  them.  Our  desire  is  to  avoid  trouble,  and  we  have  not 
come  for  war.  I requested  you  in  my  letter  of  the  26th  to  meet  me  on 
the  road  before  I reached  the  agencv.  I renew  my  request  that  you  do 
so,  and  further  desire  that  you  bring  such  chiefs  as  may  wish  to  accom- 
pany you. 

MEEKER  TO  THORNBURGH. 

Under  date  of  1 P.  M.,  September  29.  1879,  Agent  Meeker  replied : 

Dear  Sir — I expect  to  leave  in  the  morning  with  Douglass  and  Ser- 
rick  to  meet  yon.  Things  are  peaceable,  and  Douglass  flies  the  United 
States  flag.  If  you  have  trouble  in  getting  through  the  canyon  to-day 
let  me  know  in  what  force.  We  have  been  on  guard  three  nights,  and 
shall  be  to-night ; not  because  we  know  there  is  danger,  but  because 
there  may  be.  I like  your  last  programme.  It  is  based  on  true  military 
principles. 

I give  these  letters  entire,  because  I believe  that  Major  Thornburgh 
a>eted  from  beginning  to  end  exactly  right.  So  did  Mr.  Meeker.  And 
the  crimes  afterward  committed  rest  wholly  on  the  Indians. 


MAJOR  THORNBURGH 

Major  Thornburgh  was  a native  of  East  Tennessee,  and  enlisted  in  the 
volunteer  service  during  the  early  part  of  the  late  civil  war.  He  soon 
rose  to  the  rank  of  captain  and  adjutant-general,  serving  on  the  staff  of 
Brigadier  General  Spear,  who  commanded  a brigade  of  Tennessee  volun- 
teers, About  the  year  1863  Captain  Thornburgh,  then  a mere  youth, 
was  appointed  a cadet  at  West  Point,  where  he  graduated  in  the  artil- 
lery department.  He  was  assigned  to  duty  successfully  in  Alaska, 
Washington  Territory  and  California,  and  was  afterward  transferred  to 
the  A lantic  coast.  He  was  subsequently  appointed  paymaster  with  the 
rank  of  major,  and  alter  remaining  some  time  in  the  Pay  Department, 
tired  of  the  monotony  and  inactivity  in  this  branch  of  the  service  and 


62 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER’S 


wishing  for  out  dour  life,  sought  and  effected  a transfer  with  Major  H.  G. 
Thomas,  of  the  Fourth  infantry,  being  the  first  case  of  the  kind  on  re- 
cord. By  this  change  Major  Thornburgh  stepped  above  several  ranking 
captains.  This  transfer  occurred  early  in  1878. 

During  the  Cheyenne  outbreak  of  last  year  Major  Thornburgh  was  in 
command  of  the  troops  sent  to  intercept  them  on  the  line  of  the  Union 
Pacific  Railroad,  General  Crook  giving  him  the  command  on  account  of 
his  being  a great  favorite  and  having  much  confidence  in  him.  The  com- 
mand was  almost  entirely  composed  of  recruits  and  infantry  men  unused 
to  horses,  while  the  Cheyennes  were  finely  mounted  and  acquainted  with 
the  country.  He  failed  of  success;  yet  he  did  good  and  faithful  service, 
some  of  the  hardest  work  on  record,  travelling  the  first  day  between  sixty 
and  seventy  miles,  pushing  the  Indians  so  closly  that  they  abandoned 
nearly  all  their  plunder.  Major  Thornburgh  was  one  of  the  best  rifle 
shots  and  horsemen  in  the  United  States  army.  It  is  said  by  his  friends 
that  he  could  have  equalled  Carver  in  rifle  shooting.  He  was  a man  of 
splendid  physique,  with  a noble,  manly  appearance,  which  impressed 
every  one.  He  was  an  ambitious,  brave  and  gallant  officer,  and  a genial, 
hearty  and  whole-souled  gentleman,  the  very  embodiment  of  jovial  good 
nature.  In  Omaha,  where  he  resided  for  some  time,  he  was  well  known 
and  he  has  a host  of  friends  here.  He  was  a brother  of  ex-Congressman 
Thornburgh.  He  leaves  a wife  and  two  children. 

MAJOR  THORNBURGH’S  FUNERAL. 

The  remains  were  met  at  the  depot  in  Omaha  by  a detachment  of  the 
Knights  Templar  and  escorted  to  Masonic  Hall,  where  they  laid  in  state. 
In  18t3,  when  stationed  at  Port  Foote,  Maryland,  Lieutenant  Thorn- 
burgh took  the  masonic  degree  of  knighthood  in  Demolay  Commandery, 
Ho,  4,  of  Washington,  and  while  on  duty  there  was  one  of  its  most  active 
members. 

The  Knights  Templar  of  Nebraska  spared  neither  pains  nor  expense  in 
paying  a fitting  tribute  to  their  gallant  brother,  Ex-Congressman  Thorn- 
burgh, of  Tennessee,  brother  of  the  deceased,  was  there  and  united  with 
old  masons  from  the  East  in  the  statement  that  no  mason  ever  received 
higher  or  more  appropriate  funeral  honors  in  this  country. 

The  large  hall  of  the  Masonic  fraternity,  in  Masonic  Block,  situated  in 
the  central  part  of  the  city  was  transformed  into  two  striking  apartments. 
Entering  from  the  exterior  the  visitor  found  himself  in  a great  tent  com- 
posed entirely  of  American  flags,  which  separated  at  the  further  side,  af- 
forded an  entrance  to  the  second  chamber,  which  is  a gigantic  army  tent 
of  sable  hue,  tne  base  forming  a triangle  and  the  sides  draped  with  white, 


ACCOUNT  OF  IT  ALL 


53 


In  the  centre  was  the  catafalque,  composed  of  four  Corinthian  columns 
surmounted  with  globes  ane  roofed  with  dark  cloth,  covered  with  stars. 
In  the  centre,  in  a rosewood  coffin,  upon  which  was  a flag,  his  Masonic 
regalia,  sword  and  belt,  reposed  the  body  of  the  deceased.  Twelve  waxen 
candles  stood  about  the  bodjq  the  one  at  the  head  being  extinguished. 
About  the  base  was  a wreath  of  floral  offerings  and  near  the  head  of  the 
deceased,  wreathed  in  vines  and  flowers,  was  his  portrait.  Y ast  throngs  of 
citizens  visited  the  hall. 

By  request  of  Demolay  CommaQdery  six  Past  Commanders  of  the 
Grand  Commandery  of  this  State,  mouuted,  represented  them  in  the 
cortege.  Mount  Calvary  Commandery  of  Omaha  superintended  the  ar- 
rangements. Detachments  from  Council  Bluffs,  Lincoln,  Fremont,  Plats- 
mouth  and  Avoca,  Iowa,  were  present.  The  funeral  services  at  Masonic 
Hall,  Rev.  F.  ’T.  Webb,  of  Council  Bluffs,  officiating,  were  imposing. 
General  Crook  and  staff,  General  Williams,  and  mauy  leading  officers  of 
this  department  attended  in  uniform.  A battalion  of  the  Ninth  Infantry, 
Major  Gentry,  Captains  Morton  and  Burt  escorted  the  funeral  cortege  to 
Spriug  Forest  Cemetery,  where,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  Masonic  cere- 
monies, three  volleys  were  fired.  The  body  of  a little  son  of  Major 
Thornburgh,  buried  at  Fort  Steel,  has  been  brought  here,  and  buried 
in  the  same  grave  with  his  father. 


RESCUE  OF  PAYNE’S  COMMAND. 

Never,  among  all  the  valorous  deeds  in  the  history  of  the  Western  fron- 
tier, has  there  occurred  one  to  surpass  the  rescue  of  the  command  of  Cap- 
tain Payne,  which  had  been  beleaguered  in  the  canyon  of  the  savage 
IPtes.  The  following  is  the  story  as  told  by  a participator. 

Captaiu  Dodge’s  feat  appears  more  admirable  the  more  it  is  dwelt  upoQ 
by  everybody  except  the  modest  captain. 

“ We  were  getting  pretty  tired  about  that  time.  It  was  the  third  morning 
after  we  were  corralled,  and,  of  course,  we  didn’t  know  whether  any  < f 
our  messengers  sent  out  from  camp  had  struck  help  or  not.  Suddenly 
that  morning  in  the  dusk  we  heard  a noise.  Even  by  that  time  some  of 
us  had  begun  to  fear  that  the  Indians  would  charge  us,  and  we  all  iht*n 
supposed  it  might  be  Indians.  If  it  hadn’t  been  for  the  voice  of  John 
Gordon,  the  scout,  who  was  riding  in  the  advance,  we  might  have  poured 
in  a volley  at  them;  but  you  bet  your  life  there  wasn’t  no  volley  except 
cheers  when  Gordon  rode  in  with  five  or  six  darkies  alongside  of  him. 
Pretty  soon  be  told  us  what  was  up  and  what  to  expect,  and  when  Cap- 


54 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER'S 


tain  Dodge  rode  up  at  a canter,  leading  the  rest  of  his  men,  we  (Tdn’ttake 
much  account,  except  to  wonder  a little  at  the  color  of  their  faces.  I was 
the  greatest  marvel  to  all  of  us  at  this  miuute  that  the  Utes  didn’t 
pour  in  a heavy  fire  when  they  heard  us  cheer.  We  forgot  all  about  ’he 
danger  of  exposing  ourselves  and  leaped  up  out  of  the  pits  to  shake  hands 
all  around.  Why,”  continued  the  soldier  with  curious  naivete , “we  took 
those  darkies  in  right  along  with  us  in  the  pits.  We  let  them  sleep  with 
us,  and  they  took  their  knives  and  cut  off  slices  of  bacon  from  the  same 
sides  as  we  did.” 

“ That’s  so,”  exclaimed  another  trooper,  “and  one  darkey  has  got  a 
knife  with  a dent  in  it  that  was  made  by  a Ute  bullet  when  he  was  reach- 
ing up  to  carve  a slice  off  of  the  hog  fortification  in  front  of  my  trench.” 

Another  cavalryman  said  : 

“ You  ought  to  have  seen  them  niggers  and  watched  how  they  be- 
haved. You  know  it  wasn’t  any  fun  going  for  water  even  in  the  night 
time,  let  alone  daylight.  But  one  afternoon  one  moke  got  terribly  thirsty; 
the  fire  had  stopped  for  quite  a spell,  and  says  he:  ‘Well,  boss,  Ise  pow- 
erful dry,  and  somebody’s  got  to  git  water  fo’  me,  or  I’se  got  to  git  water 
fo’  somebody,’  so  what  does  that  moke  do  but  take  two  pails  in  broad 
daylight  and  go  down  and  bring  ’em  back  both  full  of  water,  and  the  In- 
juns never  lifted  a hair  on  him.” 

“We  did  not  know  what  we  were  to  find  when  we  went  in  there, 
whether  a camp  full  of  live  men  or  dead  men  We  went  in  though,  and 
they  were  mighty  glad  to  see  us.  We  were  rather  surprised  when  we 
found  how  things  lay  that  the  Utes  did  not  fire  on  us  as  we  went  in  and 
shoot  us  all  to  pieces.  But  (with  an  amusing  grin)  it  was  early  in  the 
morning  and  I expect  they  were  deceived  by  the  color  of  our  complexions. 
At  any  rate  we  got  in  and  there  we  stuck.  Afterward  we  had  to  go  out 
and  make  trenches  for  ourselves  under  a heavy  fire.  While  we  were  dig- 
ging, and  when  we  got  about  an  inch  below  ground,  the  1:eds  saw  the  out- 
lines of  the  new  trench  in  the  early  dawn,  and  made  it  so  hot  that  we 
were  glad  to  hop  out  behind  some  wagons  and  wait  till  we  got  another 
show.  The  water,”  continued  the  sergeant,  “was  the  hardest  thing  to 
get  of  all.  Some  call  it  two  hundred  yards  to  that  water;  some  more, 
some  less;  but  I paced  it  off  one  night  myself,  and  it  was  400  yards,  or  I 
am  a white  man.” 

For  the  first  three  days,  according  to  all  the  officers  and  soldiers  who 
were  there,  the  situation  was  chiefly  horrible  from  the  constant  wounds 
and  death  struggles  of  the  poor  animals,  which  they  could  in  no  way  pro- 
tect from  the  Indian  fire.  “Every  few  minutes,”  says  one,  “you  heard 
the  dying  gurgle  of  a horse  or  a mule,  and  although  we  fastened  them  as 
securely  as  possible  at  night  their  pangs  were  such  that  they  would  often 
break  away  after  being  hit,  threatening  the  men’s  lives  in  the  trenches. 


ACCOUNT  OP  IT  ALL 


55 


Once  a wounded  horse  leaped  in  hie  agony  right  into  the  pit  we  had  dug 
for  tne  wounded,  wb^re  Lieutenant  Paddock  and  seven  men  were  lying 
at  the  time.  It  was  a miracle  almost  that  he  did  not  trample  them  to 
death.  As  it  was  we  all  opened  a terrific  fire  on  the  bluffs,  so  as  to  make 
the  Utes  stop  firing,  and  under  cover  of  this  fusillade  a lot  of  our  boys 
jumped  up  and  hauled  the  horse  out  of  the  trench.  We  had  to  watch  out 
continually  to  give  dangerously  wounded  horses  and  mules  their  quietus. 
If  they  got  cavorting  after  receiving  an  Indian  bullet,  and  we  could  see 
that  they  were  maimed  or  fatally  injured,  the  soldiers  would  take  aim 
aud  finish  them.  It  was  awfully  hard  once  in  a while.  A friend  of  mine 
got  three  flesh  wounds  in  trying  to  save  his  horse’s  life.  Finally,  the 
horse  was  shot  through  one  of  his  forelegs.  Instead  of  writhing  around 
like  the  others  he  came  hobbling  up  to  the  edge  of  the  pit  where  Joe  and 
I were  and  looked  down  at  Joe  as  if  to  say,  ‘ Help  me,  for  God’s  sake  l’* 
Joe  turned  to  me  and  said:  ‘You’ll  have  to  finish  him,  Hank;  I can’t  do 
it  ’ I watched  my  chance  as  the  horse  turned  and  put  a ball  right  behind 
his  left  ear  and  dropped  him.  That  night  we  hauled  him  outside  with 
the  rest.” 

There  were  several  pet  dogs  in  the  camp,  among  them  a beautiful  grey- 
hound belonging  to  Lieutenant  Cherry.  “I  used  to  let  him  out  of  my 
Pit  occasionally,”  says  the  Lieutenant,  “to  run  down  to  the  water.  One 
night  he  came  back  with  one  of  his  paws  shot  off.  It  turned  out  that  he 
had  been  fired  on  by  one  of  our  own  sentinels,  who  mistook  him  for  a 
crawling  Indian.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  kill  the  poor  fellow 
to  save  him  misery. 

One  morning  a soldier  of  Payne’s  command,  wounded  in  the  arm  and 
so  111  tnat  he  had  had  no  appetite  for  two  days,  turned  to  a negro  soldier 
eiose  by  mm,  saying,  “ Here,  pard,  stop  shooting  at  them  bluffs,  and  for 
ihe  Lord’s  sake  make  me  a little  coffee.”  The  colored  hero  thus  ad- 
dressed, whose  name  the  narrator  could  not  recall,  answered  not  a word, 
but  set  to  work.  There  was  no  coffee  in  the  pit,  but  there  was  some  in 
tne  next  one,  which  was  tossed  over  But  how  to  make  a fire  without 
wood  that  was  the  question.  The  colored  man  calculated  the  chances, 
maae  a break  for  the  sutler’s  wagon,  snatched  a loose  side  of  a provision 
box  and  cam©  back  with  a bullet  hole  in  the  board,  which  was  meant  for 
his  own  body  Then  tie  made  a fire  in  a corner  of  the  pit  and  prepared 
the  coffee  for  his  patient. 

The  sutler’s  wagon  was  a fair  target,  and  the  sutler  himself  was  hit 
n the  ieg  while  making  an  incautious  approach  to  it.  It  had.  a limited 
supply  of  provisions,  the  regulation  hard  tack  and  raw  bacon  and  a little 
liquor  which  was  of  great  service  to  the  wounded.  Another  vehicle 
on  view,  aud  will  doubtless  be  preserved  at  Fort  Steele  as  a pet  relic  of 
recent  history,  is  the  ambulance  taken  down  by  Major  Thom  burgh.  It 


66 


BRA.V*  MISS  MEEKER’S 


stood  out  with  wagons,  near  the  centre  of  the  oval  space  occupied  by 
the  troops,  aud  is  Teniilated  by  some  thirty  bullet  holes.  Rankin,  the 
scout,  got  under  it  pne  day  fur  4 nap,  an<|  Was  awakened  by  a ball  which 
struck  one  of  the  spokes  within  two  inches  from  the  top  of  his  head. 

In  this  way,  unwashed,  unkempt,  illy  fed,  at  a time  when  even  night, 
illumined  by  stars,  refused  its  customary  shield  of  darkness,  the  men  of 
Payne’s  (white)  and  Dodge’s  (colored)  commands  awaited  further  suc- 
cor. They  were  not  only  beleaguered  by  savages,  who  kept  a cross  fire 
on  them  from  two  commanding  bluffs,  but  were  listeners  to  constant  lti* 
suits  uttered  in  English  and  seeming  to  come  from  some  white  man  quar- 
tered with  their  savage  foes.  When  a horse  cr  a mule  fell  a taunting 
^oice  from  the  bluffs  would  come,  saying : 

u Better  go  out  and  harness  him  again  for  your  funeral.” 

Again:  “ Lift  up  your  hats  and  give  us  a mark.” 

Still  agaiu:  “Come  out  of  your  holes  and  fight  square.” 

This  last  from  the  renegade  esconsed  with  the  Utes. 

Several  witnesses  describe  the  arrival  of  Merritt  and  his  troops,  and 
say  that  when  the  General  met  Captain  Payne  the  two  threw  their  arms 
around  each  other  and  that  tears  were  shed.  That  is  not  unlikely.  Both 
men  were  exhausted.  Payne  by  his  wounds  and  anxiety,  Merritt  by  his 
long  march.  As  for  the  rest,  there  is  no  concealment  about  the  tears 
There  was  such  a scene  in  that  wretched  corral  for  five  or  ten  minutes  as 
few  men  witness  twice  in  a lifetime  or  want  to. 

The  scene  of  battle  was  peculiarly  fitted  for  the  Indian  method  of  war- 
fare. When  Thornburgh’s  command  entered  the  ravine  or  canyon  they 
found  themselves  between  two  bluffs  1,300  yards  apart.  Those  on  the 
north  were  200  feet  high,  those  on  the  south  100  feet.  The  road  to  the 
agency  ran  through  the  ravine  in  a southeasterly  direction,  following  the 
bend  of  the  Milk  River,  at  a distance  of  500  yards.  On  the  top  of  the 
two  ranges  of  bluffs  the  Indians  had  intrenched  themselves  in  a series  of 
pits,  so  that  when  the  troops  halted  at  the  first  volley  they  stood  between 
two  fires  at  a range  of  only  650  yards  from  either  bluff.  Rapidly  as- 
sembling his  force  Major  Thornburgh  drew  up  eight  of  the  wagons  and 
ranged  them  as  a sort  of  breastwork  along  the  northern  and  eastern  sides 
of  an  oval,  at  the  same  time  cutting  traverse  trenches  on  the  western  and 
southern  points  of  the  oval,  along  the  line  of  which  the  men  posted  them- 
selves. Inside  the  oval  eight  more  wagons  were  drawn  up  for  the  pur- 
pose of  corralling  the  animals,  and  there  was  also  a pit  providing  for 
sheltering  the  wounded.  Outside  the  oval  and  on  a bit  of  rising  ground 
to  the  southeast  were  the  pits  thrown  up  by  Captain  Dodge’s  men,  and 
behind  them  ran  a path  to  the  nearest  bend  of  the  Milk  River,  which  was 
u *c.  i for  obtaJumg  water.  It  was  at  a point  north  of  Dodge’s  pits,  and 
c my  a few  yai  uj  from  the  path,  that  Thornburgh  fell.  A more  complete 


* ' .. 

- 


■ 


‘ 


rd 


■ 


ACCOUNT  OP  IT  ALL. 


59 


trap  could  not  be  coutrived,  for  the  troops  were  not  only  outnumbered  but 
exposed  to  a galling  fire  from  bluffs  over  the  edge  of  which  it  was  impos- 
sible to  reach  the  foe,  as  the  range  of  sight  would,  of  course,  carry  bullets 
clear  over  the  Indian  pits. 

Any  one  who  has  visited  this  wonderful  land  knows  how  impossible  it 
is  to  put  on  paper  a description  which  shall  give  the  reader  anything  like 
a realizing  conception  of  the  country.  The  immense  height  of  the  hills 
and  loftier  crags  and  peaks,  the  seemingly  immeasurable  depths  of  chasms 
and  canyons,  the  wonderful  expansion  of  distance,  the  color  and  character 
and  density  of  brush  aud  timber,  all  unite  in  forming  a veritable  terra 
incognita  totally  unlike  anychlng  which  lies  this  side  of  the  Missouri 
river.  The  fantastical  contortions  of  the  earth’s  surface  are  chiefly  due 
to  volcanic  action,  of  which  evidences  appear  at  every  turn.  Great  cliffs 
of  lava  ridge  the  parks,  and  the  same  substance  is  found  intruded  be- 
tween strata  of  other  rock,  split  asunder  by  the  convulsions  which  made 
these  mountains  untold  centuries  ago,  aud  he  who  is  venturesome  enough 
to  climb  the  giddy  heights  will  every  now  and  then  come  upon  the  well 
defined  crater  of  an  extinct  volcano.  There  are  fossils — unmistakable  sea 
shells — dug  from  heights  ten  or  eleven  thousand  feet  above  tidewater,  un- 
questionably put  there  by  the  upheaval  which  lifted  these  lofty  ranges 
from  depths  below  the  sea.  From  200  miles  east  from  the  White  River 
Agency,  extending  north  into  the  British  possessions,  south  far  down  into 
Mexico  and  westward  almost  to  the  Pacific  a net  work  of  ranges,  whose 
peaks  tower  from  ten  to  fourteen  thousand  feet  above  the  sea  level — from 
two  to  six  or  seven  thousand  feet  above  the  .rapid  rivers  which  wind 
through  the  narrow  valleys  between  them — are  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
Although  the  great  “divide”  which  parts  the  waters  flowing  into  the  two 
great  oceans  is  termed  “the  Snowy  Range”  it  is -not  proper  to  speak  of 
the  Rockeys  as  a range  in  the  sense  that  the  term  may  be  applied  to  the 
Green  Mountains  or  the  Alleghenies.  They  are  rather  a succession  of 
interwoven  ranges,  extending  north  and  south  the  whole  length  of  the 
Continent,  and  almost  a thousand  miles  from  east  to  west.  I doubt  if  the 
hundredth  part  of  the  territory  included  within  their  boundaries  is  capa- 
ble «of  tillage,  to  say  nothing  of  climatic  difficulties.  But  the  whole  region 
abounds  with  the  besUimaginable  hiding  places  for  thousands  of  fugitives, 
and  almost  insurmountable  obstacles  to  invaders.  The  most  available 
passes  between  the  peaks  are  of  some  eleven  thousand  feet  elevation, 
while  many  others,  which  must  be  crossed  to  reach  certain  districts,  are 
much  higher,  and  all  of  them  impassable  for  six  or  seven  mouths  of  the 
year  except  on  snow  shoes.  As  the  sun  advances  higher  and  higher 
north  of  the  Equator  these  great  snow  barriers  are  gradually  dissolved, 
and,  running  down  the  steep  declivities  in  thousauds  of  mountain  rivu- 
lets, are  gathered  in  the  valleys  in  foaming  torrents,  tearing  through  num- 


€0 


BRAVE  MISS  MIXKEB’S 


berless  inaccessible  canyons,  unbridged  and  unfordable,  except  at  rare  in- 
tervals. There  is  but  one  bridge  across  the  Grand  river-— that  at  Hot 
Sulphur  Springs— in  all  the  Middle  Park;  not  one  over  the  North  Platte 
in  the  whole  North  Park.  Wagon  roads  are  almost  as  infrequent,  and 
such  as  there  are,  are,  in  very  many  places,  little  better  than  none  at  all. 
A maze  of  trails,  however,  webs  the  whole  region,  perplexing  and  mis- 
leading the  stranger,  but  as  familiar  to  the  roving  Aborigines  as  the 
streets  of  New  York  to  the  native  gamin , who  roams  all  over  the  island 
without  ever  looking  at  the  signs  at  street  corners,  which  he  could  not 
read  if  he  did.  There  is  hardly  any  level  ground,  scarcely  one  acre  in 
ten  thousand.  The  whole  country  is  up  and  down,  with  such  steep  as- 
cents and  sharp  declivities  as  cannot  well  be  imagined  by  those  who  have 
not  seen  them. 

Short,  nutritutious,  wild  mountain  grasses  grow  in  profusion  in  the 
valleys  aud  on  the  hills,  and  even  cover  the  lofty  mountain  tops,  far  above 
timber  line,  wherever  they  happen  not  to  be  naked  rock.  These  grasses, 
unlike  those  of  lesser  altitudes,  cure  on  the  ground,  and  after  their  life 
goes  out  retain  the  properties  of  hay.  Subsistence  for  animals  is,  there- 
fore, abundant  so  long  as  it  is  not  covered  with  snow  or  the  country  be 
not  burned  over;  in  that  case  the  transportation  of  forage  becomes  one  of 
the  most  serious  and  expensive  obstacles  to  invasion.  The  opportuni- 
ties for  ambuscade  are  simply  endless,  and  our  wily  foeman  can  steal  all 
nround  an  advancing  army  and  count  the  soldiers  and  estimate  the  sur- 
plus with  little  danger  of  discovery,  with  the  knowledge  how  and  where 
to  hide  aud  sink  away  if  he  be  observed. 

Scarcely  less  noticeable  and  important  are  the  peculiarities  of  atmos- 
phere and  climate.  The  altitude  of  Denver  is  not  nearly  that  of  the  coun- 
try of  which  we  are  speaking,  over  the  range.  But  even  there  there  is  a 
remarkable  and  impressive  difference  in  the  air  as  it  affects  the  sight  and 
breathing,  and,  through  the  latter,  the  physical  energiss  and  powers  of 
endurance. 

Pike’s  Peak  can  be  distinctly  seen  from  th£  Kansas  Pacific  Railway  at 
a distance  of  175  miles.  And  the  same  noble  mountain,  eighty-five  miles 
away  in  the  southwest,  and  the  equally  majestic  Long’s  Peak,  sixty-five 
miles  off  toward  the  northwest,  are  as  clearly  visible  from  Denver  as  the 
Cat  skill  from  Kingston.  Indeed,  the  foot  hills  which  first  break  through 
the  monotonous  level  of  the  great  plains,  preparing  the  way  for  the  more 
majestic  peaks  of  the  snowy  range,  do  not  seem  more  than  four  or  five 
miles  from  Denver,  though  in  reality  you  must  travel  nearly  thrice  that 
distance  to  reach  them. 

The  winters  come  early  and  stay  late,  and  are  intensely  severe.  The 
mercury  often  sinks  to  the  point  of  solidity,  and  the  snow  falls  three,  four 
and  five  feet  ou  the  level  in  the  valleys. 


ACCOUNT  or  IT  ALL. 


61 


A NEW  INDIAN  TRICK.* 

This  is  what  an  old  scout  called  it,  but  we  think  he  is  mistaken,  as  we 
heard  one  of  the  California  pioneers  once  describe  just  such  a device  be- 
ing adopted  by  some  of  the  coast  tribes  in  the  pursuit  of  their  game.  It 
is  effective  but  slow,  and  requires  a most  extraordinary  amount  of  patience 
and  endurance  on  the  part  of  the  savage  who  attempts  it. 

The  following  is  the  description  of  it.  We  give  the  conversation  held 
with  the  scout  about  it.  Said  he,  after  finishing  his  story: 

“ Ah,  by-the-by,  there’s  something  I had  forgotten.  Them  red  devils 
have  a new  trick  now,  one  that  cost  us  several  good  men.  I rather  think 
it  was  how  Thornburgh  must  have  lost  his  life. 

“ For  some  time  the  man  in  B company,  who  told  me  of  it,  had  been 
taking  notice  that  near  a big  tree  grew  a small  tree,  or  rather  a big  cedar 
bush  He  noticed,  also,  that  every  once  in  a while,  ping ! would  come 
a ball  with  the  flash  of  a rifle  from  that  identical  spot, 

“Jim,”  says  he  at  last,  “do  you  see  any  red  by  that  big  tree  up 
there  ?” 

“No,”  says  his  pard;  “no  I don’t.* 

“Well,  there’s  something  mighty  funny  about  that” 

“Why?” 

" Oh,  well,  I don’t  just  exactly  know;  but  there's  something  queer  and 
comical.” 

“In  what  way  ?’’ 

“You  just  keep  your  eye  open  and  watch  around  that  big  tree.” 

“At  this  moment — ping!  again,  and  a flash  from  that  place. 

“What  do  you  think  about  that  now?” 

“Thunder!  I didn’t  see  no  red  come  out  from  behind  that  tree,* 
“Neither  did  I.” 

“ And  he  couldn’t  fire  without  he  did.” 

“That’s  so.” 

“But  maybe  the  tree  is  hollow?” 

“No,  it  ain’t.” 

“Maybe  he’s  got  a big  hole  bored  through  it 7” 

“No,  sir;  Dor  that  neither.” 

“Then  what  in  the  mischief  is  it  ?” 

“ Ping!  once  more  the  ball  and  the  flash. 

“Well,  if  that  don’t  get  me!”  exclaimed  the  first 
“ And  me  to!  That  beats  the  bugs,  as  we  say,  up  in  Denver,”  added 
the  second. 


62 


BRAVE  MISS  MEEKER5^ 


“ Ping ! This  time  the  ball  killed  a horse  right  in  front  of  the  pita. 

“ Jim  1” 

“ What?” 

“Another  flash  but  no  ping  this  time.  Instead  there  was  a little  tud 
like  sound,  and  the  speaker  fell,  for  the  ball  had  made  him  its  deadly 
mark. 

“ His  comrade  eyed  the  big  tree  more  keenly  now  than  ever,  resolved, 
If  possible  to  ascertain  what  the  mystery  was. 

“ Presently  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  large  bush  near  the  tree  was 
not  exactly  in  the  same  spot  it  was  when  he  had  first  noticed  it  I t 
seemed  to  him  to  have  moved  somewhat — ten  or  twelve  feet  at  leust. 
But  he  was  not  sure;  besides  he  had  himself  been  in  the  next  pit  then. 

“Ping!  The  same  old  flash  still  and  on  a line  with  the  tree,  and  yet  it 
appeared  to  be  right  beside  the  bush.  The  “ping,”  too,  went  within  an 
inch  or  two  of  his  ear.  Involuntarily  he  ducked  his  head,  and  the  next 
instant  came  another,  just  as  deadly.  At  once  he  saw  a second  large 
bush  about  twenty  feet  distant  from  the  first  one,  move  slightly.  He  felt 
sure  of  it.  So  he  resolved  to  watch  both  and  find  out.  Not  long  did  he 
have  to  wait,  for  presently  the  first  bush,  instead  of  being  on  the  right 
side  of  the  tree,  was  completely  on  the  left  of  it,  with  a clear  space  be- 
tween. 

“I  smell  a red  mouse,  I do!”  exclaimed  he,  as  he  seized  his  rifle,  and 
taking  deliberate  aim,  fired.  A moment  later  and  the  bush  wavered  and 
then  fell  over  on  its  side. 

“Well,  I swear,  if  that  wasn’t  a red  done*  up  in  branches!  Now  for 
the  other !”  he  exclaimed. 

Once  more  his  rifle  flashed,  and  the  second  bush  fell  over  on  its  side. 
The  ruse  was  a cunning  one,  for  none  of  the  whites  ever  dreamed  of  each 
of  those  seeming  bushes  being  an  Indian  sharpshooter,  and  had  it  not 
been  for  the  savages  themselves  being  too  eager  to  change  their  positions 
they  never  would  have  been  round  out. 

May  such  a frightful  experience  as  that  narrated  in  this  book  never 
again  befall  our  frontier  settlements. 


TUB  2ND 

7 


BRAVE  JOSEPHINE 


her  return  from  captivity,  Josie  wore  a skirt  made  of  the  Indian 
*i#anket,  a broad  -leather  belt,  a oright  colored  handkerchief  ’round  her  neck, 
Siasd  the  wide  Mexican  hat  given  her  by  thech^f  She  looked  just  lovely, 


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